


Don't Pretend You Ever Forgot About Me

by kylointhestars



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Affairs, Alcohol, Bottom Brendon Urie, Bottom Ryan Ross, Brendon is a dirty cheater, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Recreational Drug Use, Secret Relationship, Top Brendon Urie, Top Ryan Ross, a lot of arguments, because it's 2021 and that's a thing, literally everyone in the emo trinity is here, they switch you see
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylointhestars/pseuds/kylointhestars
Summary: Their relationship was bitter and painful, but it wasn't always that way. They loved each other, once. Before they got comfortable. Before they got mean. Their breakup was nasty but necessary, for one of them would surely have died otherwise.Two years pass, and things are looking up. They both seem like they've moved on; one threw himself into a new relationship, the other threw himself into his work. They're getting by. They're almost happy.Until one fateful night where they accidentally stumble across each other in a bar, both there for different reasons, and they stumble into each other's arms in a whirlwind affair that's set to destroy everyone, including themselves.
Relationships: Brendon Urie/Dallon Weekes, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Ryan Ross/Brendon Urie, Ryan Ross/Pete Wentz
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	1. Prologue

They broke up on Christmas Eve.

What had started out as confusion as to what time Ryan's mother would be coming over the next day, turned into Ryan ranting about how Brendon never ever listened to him.

Ryan had been going for a good ten minutes, making point after point arguing his case, listing every little thing Brendon had forgotten in the last five years. "And then there was our anniversary, I told you to meet me at six, but what did you do? You went home after work and waited there for me inst-"

"I cheated on you!" Brendon cried, watching Ryan's face fall at the confession. "And I know you're going to ask why," he continued, before Ryan could speak. "well I'll tell you why: this -" he gestured around them, at Ryan, at himself. "- this is why I did it. I'd had enough of you treating me like shit on your shoe the second I walked in the house, so I thought fuck it, why should I care about his feelings when he doesn't care about mine? And you know what, Ryan?"

Ryan, white as a sheet, shook his head ever so slightly. "What?" He whispered, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"In the five months we've been sleeping together, I've felt more alive than I ever have with you!"

This seemed to hit Ryan where it hurt, and he snapped out of whatever stupor he was falling into. "Well if you love fucking him so much, then why are you still with me?!"

"I don't know, I guess because I thought I still loved you!"

Ryan scoffed. "Was that before or after you slept with another man?"

"Look, Ryan, I'm not proud of it okay?" Ryan rolled his eyes and Brendon made a noise of exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I'm not proud of what I've done, but if it means I can get out of this goddamn apartment then I'm going to jump at the chance."

"Don't let me stop you, Brendon - by all means, walk out of here right now if you'd like. Clearly there's nothing worth staying for."

"You know what? You're right. I'm out of here. Don't worry, it won't take me long to pack my things."

Brendon turned and stormed up the stairs, and Ryan, always wanting the last word, shouted up after him. "Don't come crying when he decides that, since he's not your dirty little secret anymore, he doesn't want you. 'Cause I won't be taking you back."

Brendon barked a sharp laugh, shaking his head as he stuffed as much of his belongings as he could into a couple of bags. "Hell will freeze over, first." He zipped up the bags, scanning the room, before lifting one strap onto his shoulder and carrying the other. He made his way downstairs, seeing Ryan stood at the foot of the stairs with his arms folded, and he sighed. What had their relationship come to?

"What a waste of five fucking years, huh?" Said Brendon, shaking his head.

"It was a waste, was it? Everything I did for you, you think it was for nothing?" Ryan clenched his jaw, trying very hard not to cry. He'd shed too many tears in this relationship, and he wasn't going to shed any more. "I gave up everything for you, and this is how you repay me?"

"You're saying that like you don't deserve it."

"Do I?"

Brendon shook his head again, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "I'm not answering that. Goodbye, Ryan." He headed for the door, and before Ryan could say anything else, Brendon had left. Gone.

For good.


	2. Chapter 1

Ryan is falling asleep at his desk.

It's just hit 9pm, and he's been here for over twelve hours already, trying to get this report Just Right for his boss to send to his boss (a report on how many pencils were bought in the past year, nonetheless), and if he didn't have such a huge crush on his boss, he wouldn't have tried so hard. But he does have a huge crush on his boss, and even though he knows he has absolutely no chance, for some reason he still wants to impress him.

Ever since  _ the ex  _ left him, he’s been working his way up the ladder at an office supply company, ending up as a personal assistant in the marketing department. His job is to take calls and forward emails to his boss, but every so often he offers to take on one of the bigger jobs to relieve some of the pressure his boss is under. And he does a good job, too, if he does say so himself.

He’s just drifting off when he feels hands on his shoulders, making him jump in his seat. “Hey, busy bee,” his boss says in his ear, giving his shoulders a gentle squeeze. His voice is soothing, and makes Ryan melt every time he talks. Especially like this, when it's quiet, just the two of them.

“Hey, Pete.” Ryan rubs his eyes, leaning into his touch. Pete’s like this, sometimes. Occasionally touchy-feely and a little too close to be strictly professional. It's nice, though, not overbearing or weird. Comforting is the word Ryan would use, as Pete leans his cheek against his head.

“Are you going to be leaving here any time soon? I know there’s a sleeping bag somewhere in the break room, but I know you’re technically not supposed to stay here overnight.”

Ryan spins in his chair to look up at Pete as he steps back, whose normally tidy hair, pulled back into a ponytail, is loose and messy, falling into his dark eyes. “Well, unfortunately I’ve missed my last train, so I guess I’ll  _ have _ to stay here overnight.” He shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips.

Pete rolls his eyes, smiling. “Well I’ll drop you home, stupid. You can’t sleep in the break room.”

“Says who?”

“Says me."

"And who are you to tell me what I can and can't do here?"

Pete grabs his hands and pulls him to his feet, but he doesn't let go, and Ryan's skin is on fire, just like it is every time Pete grabs his hand, or brushes lint from his shoulder, or tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. He's been doing it more and more recently, especially since Ryan's been staying later at work more, but Ryan doesn't mind. In fact, it makes him feel good.

"I'm your boss, and what I say, goes."

Ryan smiles up at him, before reaching up to brush hair out of his eyes. Pete's eyes close at the touch, and his hands drift to Ryan's waist, pulling him closer. "But Pete, have you considered that I can do what I want?"

Pete hums, shaking his head ever so slightly. "I'll let you believe that for now, honey. Now come on, turn your computer off. It’s time to go home.”

Ryan pouts but doesn’t argue, and once Pete has stepped back, he saves his report and shuts his computer down. While he waits for it to turn off properly, he glances over at Pete in his office. There’s a big window next to the door, and usually the curtains are drawn during the day, but now they’re wide open and Ryan can see inside. Pete looks up from his desk to see Ryan watching, and he smiles widely, throwing him a wink. Ryan rolls his eyes but he’s grinning as he turns away, his face heating up.

He’s been in this company for at least two years now, starting off as a simple salesperson back when he was with  _ the ex _ . He worked 9-5, Monday to Friday, but after his relationship fell apart he started to work weekends and late into the night. Then a management position opened up in the next town over, so he went for it, got the job, and worked forty hours a week just so he could distract himself from how lonely he was. He was soon promoted from assistant manager to manager and then was asked if he wanted to start working in the office. And then that led him here, to Pete, and the fluttering in his stomach that he feels whenever he sees him. And the weird flirty thing they have going on at the moment.

Once his computer’s shut down, Ryan shoves his notebook and empty coffee cup into his bag, and then he turns off the light that sits on his desk. He looks up to see Pete locking his office door, and he waits for him to make his way over.

“Ready?” Pete asks, nudging him with his elbow, his hands in his pockets. Ryan nods, biting his lip ever so slightly. Pete’s close enough that he can smell his cologne, woody with a hint of citrus, and Ryan doesn’t know much about pheromones, or biology, but he reckons that it’s one of the things that attracts him so much to his gorgeous boss. “Let’s go, then.”

Pete takes Ryan's hand, and he leads him out of the office and into the elevator, Ryan hoping that the older man can't hear how fast his heart is beating. Sure, Pete’s given him lifts home before, but never this late, never ever this late. Sometimes it would be early enough so that they could sit and talk for an hour, maybe grab a coffee, and Pete’s been offering lifts more and more as of late. But it’s always at 6pm. Never this late. It would be the perfect opportunity for  _ something _ to happen. Ryan’s mouth is dry, and the small space is making him feel hot. But soon enough, the elevator doors slide open, and they step out into the coolness of the lobby, heading straight for the front door. Once in the car, with their seatbelts on, Ryan feels like he should be relaxing, as he’s done so many times before, but this time feels different.

“Have you got much planned for the weekend?” Pete asks, in an attempt to make small talk. Ryan usually hates small talk, especially after  _ the ex _ , but with Pete he doesn’t mind. He feels privileged that Pete even wants to speak to him, the PA that just blends into the background. He guesses he’s kind of important, but he’s nothing special. There are more important people in the office.

He shrugs. “Not really, probably more work.”

“You gotta switch off sometimes, Ry. You’re gonna burn out, and you won’t be any use to me burnt out.” Pete flashes him a smirk, before concentrating on the road. Ryan takes a deep breath, deciding how to reply.

“I didn’t realise I’m of use to you in the first place.” he says, eyeing Pete from the corner of his eye.

“You’re my PA, you’re of great use to me.” They pull up to a red light, and they lock eyes. “For more reasons than you think.”

Ryan makes a show of wetting his bottom lip, and he swears that, just for a split second, Pete’s eyes dart to his lips to follow the motion. And then the lights turn green and they’re off again, Ryan’s heartbeat thundering in his ears.

They pull up to Ryan’s apartment block, and all is quiet. Ryan looks at Pete, and Pete looks at Ryan, and it takes four seconds for them to unbuckle their seatbelts and meet each other halfway. Pete’s mouth is hot and rough, his hands large on either side of Ryan’s head. He grabs a hold of Pete’s tie and pulls his body closer as their tongues collide. It’s been so long since Ryan’s kissed someone, it feels so  _ good _ . He’s not kissed anyone since  _ the ex _ , and the thought strikes him like a thunderbolt to the heart.

He pulls back, gasping for breath, and he locks eyes with Pete, who looks just as wrecked as him. 

“Ryan,” Pete says,  _ Pete _ , with his messy tie, his red lips. He wants to lean back over, and kiss him again. It’s all he wants right now. He’s started to think about  _ him _ , and he needs a distraction. This could be his distraction. Pete reaches over and brushes Ryan's bottom lip with his thumb. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. Are you okay?”

Ryan nods, offering a smile. “I’m fine,” he takes a deep breath, breaking eye contact and reaching over to straighten Pete’s tie. Without looking at his face, he says, “Would you like to come inside? For a beer...or something else?”

Time seems to slow as he waits for an answer, and he truly fears the worst. What if he’s just fucked his entire career up? What if Pete goes to HR, tells them that he tried to make an advance on him, or worse, what if he fires him himself?

“I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. We could get in so much trouble.” He takes Ryan’s hand, presses his lips against his knuckles. This makes Ryan look up, meeting Pete’s eyes. “But I can't stop thinking about you, about what it would be like to  _ be _ with you...if you catch my drift."

Ryan's breath catches in his throat. Everything, the hand-holding, the occasional touches, the almost-kisses, has all come down to  _ this. “ _ Come inside with me and I'll show you what it's like.”

Pete nods, and once they’re out the car, Ryan takes his hand, leading him up to his apartment. He's nervous, rightfully so, but with a quick squeeze of Pete's hand as he unlocks the door, he calms a little. He knows Pete will take care of him.

~~~

Ryan wakes up much later than he wanted to, finding the bed empty beside him. He's naked, and sore, and he can feel scratches on his back, but he's still surprisingly well-rested. He rubs his eyes and sits up, stretching as he grabs his phone from the nightstand. The first thing he sees is the time - 11:44am - and the second thing he sees is a few texts from Pete. He opens them up, his heart skipping a beat.

_ Hey Ry, sorry I left without saying goodbye, I had to go into the office and you looked like you needed the rest. Last night was fun, still can't stop thinking about you, wanna do something tonight? Could pick you up, take you back to mine, spend the night together? ;) _

_ Let me know, I won't be offended if you don't want to, I promise :p xx _

_ Like cross my heart, I won't even fire you if you don't want to, you have every right to say no _

Fighting a huge stupid grin, Ryan gets up to pee and make coffee, holding his phone to his chest. His boss, Pete Wentz, the guy he's had a ridiculous crush on for at  _ least _ six months, wants to  _ see him outside of work _ ! And maybe have sex!  _ Again _ ! His boss! And him!  _ Sex _ ! Everything has come down to  _ this _ , wanting to see each other outside of work, actual  _ kissing _ ! He feels like a teenager again, all giddy and excited. He feels the same way he did when he met  _ him _ .

He shakes his head, keeping the grin firmly on his face, and while he waits for the coffee machine to finish pouring, he types a text back to Pete.

**Hey you :) sorry, yeah I've just woken up, you must think so badly of me ugh. Last night was wonderful, I'd really like to see you again tonight. I can't stop thinking about you either.**

_ Oh? What is it about me you can't stop thinking about? I think I have a pretty good guess but I want you to say it _

**Absolutely not.**

_ Go on, baby. I promise I won't laugh. _

**I don't want to overstep any boundaries though**

_ You’re cute. I literally had my dick in your ass last night, for a long time - I don't think we have any boundaries anymore, Ry _

**Good point. Well that's what I'm thinking about, if you must know.**

He sips his coffee, heading into the living area to find his clothes. He has no idea if Pete likes him, or just wants to fuck him, but either way, Ryan’s grateful that he wants to see him - just him! - outside of work. **You think** **I’m cute?** He adds to his previous message, before picking up his underwear from the floor, slipping it on. He should really shower, but Pete won’t be here for at least a couple of hours, so he’s got time. He’s got loads of time.

He sits on the couch and scrolls through Facebook while he drinks his coffee, waiting for Pete’s reply. It comes half an hour later ( _ god you're so cute <3 _ ) and it leaves him feeling warm and fuzzy inside. He’s almost giddy with excitement. It’s been so  _ long _ .

He’s mindlessly scrolling when something catches his eye, making him stop. He slowly puts his mug down on the coffee table, nudging his t-shirt out of the way, and scrolls back up to find it. Two friends of his from high school, Mikey and Gerard Way, both of whom he hasn't spoken to in at least four years or so, have liked a post, causing it to show up on his timeline. A post from Dallon Weekes. A post from Dallon Weekes with a picture of himself and his boyfriend. A post from Dallon Weekes with a picture of himself and  _ Ryan's ex-boyfriend _ , who has his hand held up, a shiny ring on his ring finger.

And the caption says:  _ he said yes!! _

  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 2

Brendon’s never been engaged before.

He can’t stop staring at his ring, unable to believe that someone loves him enough to marry him. He’s just so  _ happy _ . He hasn’t been this happy in a long, long time.

He’s meant to be putting books back out onto their shelves, but he’s very distracted. Mostly because his fiancé -  _ fiancé!!!  _ \- keeps texting him to tell him how much he loves him, but also because of this shiny ring on his hand. It’s nothing flashy, just a plain silver band with  _ I am yours, forever  _ engraved on the inside, but he adores it. Almost as much as he adores Dallon.

Things haven’t been easy for them, not by a long shot; he was the man that he cheated on his ex with, after all. But they’ve managed to make it work between them. Sacrifices had been made. Once they’d made their relationship public, Brendon decided he should probably leave his job at the music store he was working at, instead deciding to get a job at the local library. Working with his boyfriend would’ve been weird, and a bit unprofessional, not to mention it would make things awkward if - god forbid - they split up.

But things have been wonderful with Dallon, much more wonderful than they had been with Ryan, and even though thinking about Ryan makes him a little breathless, Brendon knows that Dallon is much,  _ much _ better for him. In every way.

Brendon finishes emptying his trolley of books, and then he checks his watch. It’s 12:07pm, which not only means that it’s break time, but also that he can call his fiancé. The word still feels foreign in his brain, but it’s not even been twenty-four hours yet, so that might be why. He doesn’t care; he’s happy, he’s engaged, things are looking up.

It’s just that black cloud at the back of his mind making him doubt himself.

He sits in the break room and gets his sandwich out of his bag, his hand dialling Dallon’s number. He answers on the third ring, his voice bright.

“Hey, baby. How’s it going?”

Brendon smiles at the sound of his voice, feeling warm and fuzzy inside. “Hey, you. It’s going okay, it’s really quiet for some reason, which is good, ‘cause I keep getting distracted.”

“Distracted? By what?”

“By you! What else am I gonna be distracted by?”

Dallon chuckles. “There are plenty of things for you to get distracted by, B. Your mind always wanders.”

“Hey, that’s not fair. This is your fault. If you hadn’t proposed -”

“Oh so you  _ don’t _ accept my proposal?”

“What? No, don’t be stupid, I just meant -”

“I’m messing with ya, honey.” He laughs again, making Brendon’s stomach do flip flops. Even after two and a half years, he still gets all giddy when he’s around Dallon. It’s just how much he loves him, he guesses. “I love you, you know?”

“I know, Dal, I love you more.”

“Nuh-uh, I love you most.”

“Mm-hm, I think you’re wrong, but we’ll discuss it when I get home, if you’d like?”

“Sounds good to me.” Dallon pauses, and Brendon can hear him shuffling. It’s his day off, so he’ll be at home, most likely watching Netflix with the dogs. “Hey, do you fancy going out for a couple of drinks tonight, to celebrate? Mikey messaged me, says a friend of his brother’s just opened a new LGBTQ+ bar downtown, wants to know if we wanna go down there?”

“Yeah, that sounds great! I get out of here at six, but it won’t take me long to get changed and stuff.”

“I’ll pick you up after work, we can come back here and cuddle for a bit before we have to go out, I’ll just tell Mikey we’ll be there just after nine.”

“Sounds perfect, baby. I’ll see you at six, then?”

“I’ll see you at six, B. I love you!”

“I love you more, angel.”

Dallon hangs up, and Brendon finishes his lunch in silence. They don’t often go out together, usually choosing to go out to dinner or to watch a movie, but sometimes they’ll go out for a few drinks with their friends. And it’s always a great time, especially since Dallon gets  _ very _ horny when he’s drunk. They never did anything unless Brendon was also drunk, which was, admittedly, most of the time, and drunk sex was always  _ incredible _ , but when Brendon was sober, seeing Dallon stupidly horny was always amusing. 

When Brendon goes back out to work, he hums to himself as he walks through the aisles with his trolley, laden with books, a spring in his step. It’s nice to have something to look forward to.

~~~

“ _ Fuck _ , Dallon, you’re gonna make me come,” Brendon moans, eyes closed, hands pressed against the glass of the shower wall as Dallon fucks him, his hips snapping hard and fast and his hands firmly at Brendon’s own hips.

“Oh, baby…” Dallon murmurs, fisting a hand in Brendon’s wet hair, pulling on it as he chases his release. “You feel so fucking  _ good _ …”

They started off showering together to save time, as they wanted to have something to eat before they went out, but then Brendon just had to go and be all sexy, and they started kissing, and one thing led to another and now here they are. Fucking. In the shower. 

Brendon curses, low and loud, reaching down to wrap a hand around himself, pumping quickly in an effort to reach his climax. He can feel it coming, creeping up on him fast, and he whispers  _ right there right there right there  _ as his toes curl and his arms shake and then and then -

And then his knees threaten to buckle as his orgasm hits him like a train, and he’s coming hard over his hand. He barely registers Dallon’s hips stilling as he comes inside him, his forehead resting between his shoulder blades. Dallon pulls out, leaving him feeling empty, and he wraps his arms around Brendon’s waist, pressing a wet kiss against his neck.

“I love you, baby,” Dallon murmurs, and Brendon smiles, turning around on wobbly legs in his arms.

“I love you too, sex machine,” he replies, and his fiancé rolls his eyes, stepping back to grab the loofah and Brendon’s shower gel.

“ _ Sex machine _ ,” he mutters to himself, squeezing shower gel onto the loofah, and Brendon closes his eyes as Dallon begins to wash him.

He moves obediently so that Dallon can reach all the nooks and crannies, and he’s ever so gentle when it comes to cleaning his sensitive cock and his messy asshole. Brendon melts at the sensation, biting his lip as Dallon presses a quick kiss to the head of his cock. Once Brendon's been all soaped up, he steps under the spray of water to rinse himself off while Dallon washes himself.

While Dallon finishes his shower, Brendon steps out and wraps a towel around his waist, heading into the bedroom. The radio’s on in the corner, quietly playing some classic rock, which Brendon hums along to as he looks through his wardrobe to find something to wear. He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice Dallon until he whistles, making him jump. He rolls his eyes and takes off his towel, slipping on some underwear while Dallon towel-dries his hair.

“What am I meant to wear?” Brendon pouts, standing at the wardrobe with his hands on his hips. It’s been a long time since he and Dallon last went out, and he’s scared he’s going to look like garbage compared to everyone else, especially his fiancé.

“I mean, if you ask me, you’re fine as you are.” Dallon shrugs, and the younger man throws him a glare. “But if you don’t want to be kicked out, just a button-up and some jeans will be fine. You look hot in everything.”

Brendon rolls his eyes but smiles anyway; he’s still not used to someone telling him how attractive he is all the time, even after all this time together. After all, it wasn’t as if he got a lot of that in the last relationship he had. He pulls on a pair of tight black jeans and a white button-up shirt, even going so far as to tuck his shirt in. Dallon chooses to wear dark blue jeans with a black button-up shirt, slipping his black denim jacket over the top. Brendon reckons that Dallon Weekes is literally the only person in the entire world that can pull off double denim. Apart from himself, in a different sense.

They grab a bite of leftover pasta from Dallon’s lunch, and then they head out of the house and downtown to the bar. It’s a short walk, about half an hour, and the evening is nice and mild, so they’re not cold, but they’re not warm, either. Which is good, because Brendon really does not want to be sweating his tits off when he gets to the bar. That comes later. 

He’s glad the weather isn’t gross for another reason: there’s a huge queue outside the bar. He’s not surprised; queer-exclusive clubs are few and far between around downtown Vegas, so everyone jumps at the chance to experience a new one, and  _ Jinxxd _ is no different. Brendon has no idea why it’s called  _ Jinxxd _ , in fact he barely knows the guy that owns it (a friend of a friend of a friend), and he and Dallon shrug at each other as people slowly filter in.

It takes them at least half an hour to get in, and when they do, the place is  _ packed _ . Luckily, there are three floors, each one offering the same experience in more space. They look around and find a booth just to the right of the bar, and Brendon sits down while Dallon goes and gets them a double rum and coke each. There are already people on the dancefloor, which is to be expected really, considering it’s half past nine at night and a lot of people are already drunk.

It doesn’t take long for Dallon to return, which is surprising as there are so many people there, trying to get the bartenders’ attention. He sits down, handing Brendon his drink, and he scooches close, their thighs pressing firmly together, so that they can hear each other over the music.

“Wonder where Mikey is,” Dallon shouts, and Brendon shrugs, because he’s wondering that too. “I’ll message him.”

As Dallon’s typing away on his phone, Brendon looks around, trying to see if there’s anyone that he recognises. There’s nobody yet, or there is and he just can’t see them for the amount of people. He doesn’t know. His eyes scan the crowd, and he does a double take as he sees a familiar dusty rose jacket.

His stomach lurches into his mouth as he sees him. His hair is curly, looking freshly washed, and there's a five-o-clock shadow on his face. He looks different. He’s smiling, holding hands with another guy with long hair, talking close and laughing together as they make their way to the bar. And then he looks around, hazel eyes locking with Brendon’s, and his smile fades. And try as he might, Brendon can’t look away, because standing there is his ex-boyfriend, Ryan Ross, a man he hasn’t seen for almost two years.

And Brendon’s heart has all but stopped beating.


	4. Chapter 3

Ryan had been looking forward to going out with Pete, especially when he'd suggested they go to this new bar,  _ Jinxxd _ , but now that he's here and he's seen  _ him _ , he just wants to go home. Seeing  _ him _ here, sitting with the slimeball he'd been sleeping with while they were still together, makes him feel like he's about to throw up.

Pete and Ryan somehow manage to snag a barstool each, sitting close together so that they can be heard over the music. Ryan still has his eyes on Brendon, and Pete, who’s talking about something that happened at work, eventually realises that his attention is elsewhere. He glances over, shooting Ryan a confused look. "Who's that? Not eyeing up other boys I hope?" He’s joking, but the thought of Pete being jealous that he’s looking at other guys makes Ryan finally tear his eyes away from the happy couple.

"I wish,” he says, gently brushing his knuckles against Pete’s stubbled jaw. “You’re the only one I’ve been looking at.”

“You’re so cute.” He takes Ryan’s hand, kissing his palm. “So if you aren’t staring at them because you wanna make out with them, then who are they?”

“That would be my ex-boyfriend and the man that he cheated on me with." His jaw clenches, his nostrils thinking as he thinks about it. 

Pete whistles. " _ Seriously _ ? Which one? The one on the left?" Ryan nods. "Huh. You’re better looking than that other guy, that’s for sure.”

“I’m sure you’re biased, Pete.”

Pete hums, shrugging, as he leans over and connects their mouths, kissing him slowly and passionately. He pulls Ryan from the barstool to stand between his legs, his arms around the younger's waist. Ryan moans into his mouth, his fingers playing with the ends of Pete's ponytail, and even though he  _ knows _ that Brendon is still staring at him, he feels all tingly, the sensation spreading right to his fingertips. Kissing Pete like this makes him feel  _ good _ . So good, in fact, all he wants to do now is take him into the bathroom and give him a quick blowjob.

He decides against it, though, because there's alcohol to drink and dancing to be done, and unfortunately, air that needs breathing. They break apart, and Ryan's so breathless that he feels almost dizzy as he sets himself back onto his barstool, but not before he's whispered obscenities into Pete's ear. Pete inhales sharply, muttering something that sounds like  _ I’ll hold you to that, Ryan Ross _ , and when he looks over at Brendon again, he's looked away, talking to his fiancé. But Ryan sees the hard line of his mouth, the way his jaw is clenched. He knows those signs better than anybody: Brendon is  _ jealous _ . And making Brendon, his  _ ex-boyfriend _ , jealous makes him feel higher than any drug could.

~~~

Ryan's outside smoking when Brendon steps out onto the balcony, lighting his own cigarette. He sees Ryan and stops, looking at Ryan and then away and then back again, before taking the cigarette from his mouth.

"Ryan." he says, his voice clipped.

Ryan's face is expressionless, although Brendon does see the ever-so-slight arch of an eyebrow. "Brendon." He replies, just as curtly.

He's preparing himself for whatever insults or mean comments Brendon feels like making, as he smokes in silence, avoiding eye contact. He's just about to make some benign small talk when Pete comes to the rescue, walking over and grabbing a handful of his ass as he kisses him deeply.

"Hey, gorgeous," says Pete, taking Ryan's cigarette and putting it in his own mouth.

"Hey, yourself," Ryan smiles, running a hand through the elder's hair. Then he suddenly remembers Brendon stood there, and he clears his throat. "Um, babe, this is Brendon," he gestures towards his ex, and he doesn't miss the arch of Pete's eyebrows as he looks him up and down. "my ex-boyfriend." He winces and hopes that nobody sees. "Brendon, this is Pete, my boyfriend."

They aren't boyfriends, of course, but Ryan figures that it'll make Brendon more jealous if he sees that he's got another boyfriend, instead of just sleeping with his boss. He's not sure yet why he wants to make Brendon jealous, but he'll figure it out. For now, he's just thinking about getting out of this awkward conversation, and maybe riding Pete's cock at some point tonight.

"Good to meetcha," Pete says, holding out a hand for Brendon to shake, still keeping a hold of Ryan's ass as he does so.

"You too," Brendon replies, shaking Pete's hand, and then he thrusts his chin in the air, a look Ryan knows all too well. That's Brendon's  _ I think Ryan's lying to me and I'm going to prove it  _ look, and it always, without fail, drives Ryan up the fucking all. "How long have you two been together?"

"Almost a year," Pete answers before Ryan can speak, taking a drag of the cigarette. Ryan's glad that Pete's taking charge of the conversation - he feels like he's going to faint. Seeing your ex for the first time in two years is one thing, but immediately introducing him to your new 'boyfriend' is enough to make him want to jump over the railing, even if he does break his foot. "We met on the subway; the seat next to Ry's was the only one left, and dude, it was love at first sight."

"Uh-huh…" Brendon folds his arms, tapping ash into a nearby beer can. "And then what?"

Pete shrugs, kissing Ryan’s temple. “I just  _ had _ to have Ry-Ry’s number, didn’t I, baby?” Ryan nods dumbly; Pete’s such a good liar, even  _ he  _ kind of believes that that’s how they met. “He wasn’t sure at first - apparently he’s not had someone ask for his number on public transport, can you  _ imagine _ ? - but I can be incredibly persuasive, and we went on our first date thirteen hours later.”

“Huh.” Brendon nods slowly, finishing his cigarette before straightening his shirt. Then he looks behind Pete and Ryan, his face breaking into a grin. “Hey, baby!”

Ryan’s blood runs cold as Dallon comes into view, giving Brendon a large, wet peck on the cheek. He’s met Dallon before, but it doesn’t mean he’s eager to see him again. The first time they met, it hadn’t even been a week since he and Brendon had broken up, and Ryan was at the store, trying to decide on vodka and rum, when he’d heard Brendon’s voice and turned around to see him walk down the aisle, hand in hand with Dallon.

Ryan had flipped out, causing a scene, and Dallon had said something along the lines of  _ wow that’s a lotta crazy, no wonder you left him, B  _ which caused Ryan to punch him in the face. He hadn’t seen either of them since. Which is absolutely a good thing.

“Hey, I was wondering where you’d got -” Dallon stops, his eyes meeting Ryan’s as Ryan’s jaw hardens. Pete’s arm tightens around Ryan’s waist, as if he’s worried Ryan’s going to launch himself across the balcony. “- to.” Dallon nods once, sharply, standing close to Brendon. “Ryan.”

Ryan says nothing as he stares down the only man he hates more than himself. He fucking  _ knows _ it’s Brendon he should be mad at; after all, Brendon was the one in a relationship when he cheated. But no matter how ugly their fights got, Ryan still sometimes misses sleeping next to Brendon. Only sometimes. Like once a month. And besides, if Dallon didn’t exist, Brendon wouldn’t have cheated. It’s simple, really.

Dallon rolls his eyes and turns to Pete, holding his hand out. “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Dallon, Brendon’s  _ fiancé _ .” He emphasises the word to make sure Ryan knows who he’s dealing with, but Ryan’s not listening; it’s taking all of his self-control for him to not punch Brendon’s stupid  _ fiancé _ in the face. 

And Pete, the people-pleaser he is, shakes Dallon’s hand, smiling warmly. “Hey, I’m Pete. I’m Ryan’s  _ fiancé _ .”

Ryan hears  _ this _ , though, and he spins to look at Pete with wide eyes just as Brendon shouts  _ what?! _ . “Pete?” he whispers, but he gets a wicked grin in return as his boss gets down on one knee.

“Ryan Ross. I am a firm believer in taking chances, but I want you to be the one to take a chance on me. Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man in the world and being my husband?”

It’s fake, it’s all so, so fake, yet Ryan can’t help but feel breathless as he nods. “ _ Yes _ ! Fuck yes!” He cries, flinging himself at Pete and wrapping his arms around him. “ _ I hate you _ ,” he murmurs into Pete’s ear, feeling the older man chuckle against him.

They break apart and get to their feet, looking around to see that Brendon and Dallon are nowhere to be seen. Ryan turns to face Pete, who crushes his mouth against his own, holding him as close as he can possibly get.

“You,” he says, moving his mouth to Ryan’s ear, feeling him shiver. “are in  _ big trouble _ , Ryan Ross.”

Ryan giggles, biting down on his lower lip. He’s very tipsy, his head swimming with alcohol, which gives him the confidence boost that he wouldn’t ordinarily have. That, combined with the adrenaline rush he’s got from seeing Brendon after all this time, makes him feel high. He flutters his eyelashes at his new fake fiancé, in an attempt to be flirtatious. He’s not sure if it’s working or not. “Are you going to punish me?”

Pete almost growls, kissing Ryan again, making him dizzy with want. He breaks the kiss long enough to say  _ don’t fucking tempt me, you idiot _ , before they go back to making out as if the world’s going to end in five minutes. To Ryan, calling Pete his fiancé (however fake it may be) has felt like a big  _ fuck you _ to Brendon. He hopes it  _ hurts _ .


	5. Chapter 4

They’re in Pete’s office when the phone rings. Only problem is, Pete is balls deep in Ryan’s ass while on the couch, not to mention that the phone is halfway across the room. At first, they ignore the phone - Ryan has his head buried in Pete’s neck and Pete’s moaning softly in his ear - but after it stops ringing and then rings again, Pete groans and taps his thigh to signal him to move. Ryan grumbles but he gets to his feet, thinking that Pete’s just going to tuck himself in and pretend they weren’t just fucking ten seconds ago, leaving Ryan high-strung for the rest of the day. But Pete surprises him; he bends Ryan over the desk while at the same time picking up the phone from the cradle.

“Keep that mouth of yours quiet, okay?” Pete whispers, sliding back in with little resistance. And then he answers the phone, strangely calm if not a little out of breath. “Hello, Pete Wentz speaking,” says Pete, and Ryan has to clamp a hand over his mouth as his boss thrusts in and out, torturously slowly, holding his hips with his free hand. “Hey, sorry, I was using the bathroom...Yeah, I heard the phone and ran back.” He chuckles. “Yeah, of course I washed my hands, I’m not that gross.”

Ryan’s only half-listening to the conversation, his eyes screwed shut as his climax begins to creep up on him. He doesn’t want to come right now, because he  _ knows _ how hard it is to keep quiet at that moment, but it doesn’t help when Pete snakes a hand around to the base of his leaking cock, stroking gently. 

“I heard something about that but I haven’t had an email or anything yet...ah, okay, that would make sense...yeah, I should be free then...yeah, sounds good, I just need to put you on hold a second though so I can run that past my assistant, just in case he’s already booked something for me...yeah I won’t be a minute…” Pete sets the phone down and makes sure it’s on hold, and then he snaps his hips so fast that a yelp spills from Ryan’s mouth before he can stop it.

Pete grabs a handful of Ryan’s hair, pulling him up off the desk and wrapping a hand around his waist to keep him upright. He growls into his ear, something that sounds like  _ fuck me you feel so fucking good _ , but Ryan barely hears it. His pulse thunders in his ears as he bites down on his lower lip, one of Pete’s hands around his throat and the other back at his cock. He can taste blood and his head is swimming, and he knows he’s gonna come soon if Pete keeps fucking him like this.

“ _ Pete, _ ” Ryan groans, his hands gripping the desk so hard that his knuckles turn white. “Fuck, I’m - I’m gonna -”

Pete’s hips stutter as he buries his face into the back of Ryan’s neck, moaning softly as he comes into the condom, and there’s only a few seconds before Ryan comes too, somehow managing to catch it in his hand as his legs threaten to buckle. Gasping for breath, he feels Pete slip out of him, and he grabs one of the tissues on Pete’s desk so that he can wipe his hands clean before he washes them. He then re-dresses before turning to face Pete, who gently grasps his chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing him softly.

“You are something else, Ryan Ross,” Pete says, kissing along Ryan’s cheek and down his neck, making him shiver. “You are surely going to be my undoing.”

Ryan bites his lip, fighting a stupid grin and words that he’ll definitely regret saying. Instead, he asks, “Who’s on the phone?”

Pete pulls back suddenly, hissing  _ shit _ as he takes the phone off hold. Ryan leaves the office to go and clean up, chuckling to himself. He takes his time washing his hands and tidying his hair, as well as straightening his shirt. When he returns, Pete’s sitting at his desk, scribbling something into his diary. “Sorry about that,” he says, as Ryan sits on the couch, crossing one leg over the other. “That was Andy.”

“Stump’s assistant?” Pete nods, not looking up from his diary. Ryan feigns ignorance, picking at his nails. “What’s he want?”

Patrick Stump manages the Chicago branch of the company Ryan works for, and quite often he’ll ring Pete’s office just to chat for an hour. This is annoying in itself, but Patrick and Pete were friends in high school, apparently, and the way Pete talks about Patrick sometimes sounds like they had a little bit more than friendship in high school.

“There’s a conference in Minnesota in like, two weeks.” He looks up at Ryan, shrugging. “I’m sure you mentioned it but I’ve slept since then.” He grins, and Ryan can’t help but smile too. “Andy was wondering if I’d sorted out travel and where I’m staying - which I haven’t, obviously - and ‘Trick’s gonna ring me tonight so we can organise something.”

Ryan nods slowly, looking down at his lap. “Will Andy be going?”

“Nah, this is just a managers’ thing. He’s gotta hold down the fort with Joe, anyway. You know what those guys in Chicago are like.”

“Makes sense.” Ryan licks his lips, getting up from the couch. “I’ll prepare an email for you to send out, let people know you’ll be out of the office.” He makes his way to the door, trying to avoid Pete’s eyes.

“Hey,” Pete says, stopping Ryan in his tracks. He gets to his feet and moves to stand in front of Ryan, gently taking his hand and giving it a squeeze. “What’s going on?”

Ryan squirms, feeling his face warm up. He doesn’t want to admit it - mostly because it would make him look stupid, but also because he has no idea how Pete actually feels about him - but the thought of Pete and Patrick sharing a room together in Minnesota makes him feel sick with jealousy. He  _ knows _ that Pete can do what he wants, because they’re not together, they’re just sleeping with each other, and it means nothing, but it doesn’t stop him from being anxious about it. He  _ likes _ Pete, a whole fucking lot.

“Nothing, I just -” he shrugs as Pete cups his cheek, making him look up into those dark eyes of his. He swallows heavily, his brain faltering as Pete’s eyes search his. “I just get anxious when you’re not here to run the office.” It’s true, but not the whole reason why his mood has changed so suddenly. “You know that Bob hates me.”

Pete kisses Ryan’s forehead, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him close. “I won’t be gone for long, just a couple days, and I’m on the other end of the phone if you need me.”

Ryan breathes in, inhaling Pete’s familiar scent, beginning to feel calmer with each breath. “Yeah, I guess so…”

The elder of the two leans back, frowning. “There’s something else.”

Ryan shakes his head, gently removing himself from Pete’s hold. “It’s nothing, I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” he nods, avoiding Pete’s eyes. “You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? I’m your boss; it’s what I’m here for.”

_ And that’s the problem. _

Ryan opens the office door, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to smooth it down. “I’d better get back to work.”

He smiles and leaves, heading to his desk, but it’s hard to concentrate when he can feel Pete’s confused stare boring into him. He does his best to ignore it anyway, focusing all of his concentration on his computer and trying to get these emails done. He knows he’s going to have to talk to Pete about their  _ thing _ before he goes to Minnesota, but...that’s a problem for future Ryan.

~

Ryan can’t sleep.

It’s 3am, or 4am, he’s not sure, and he’s lying awake in bed staring at the ceiling, his mind racing. He can’t stop thinking about Pete, and the sex, and the phone call, and what will happen while Pete’s in Chicago with Patrick. He’s not talked to Pete since yesterday afternoon, and he finds himself missing him as he tosses and turns in bed.

He knows that he should stop having sex with his boss; that’s a given. But truth be told, he doesn’t  _ want  _ it to stop. He likes Pete, and perhaps more so, he likes feeling wanted.

He sighs, giving up on trying to get to sleep. He knows that it’s not coming any time soon. Throwing the sheets back and sitting up, he slides his feet into his slippers as he opens the top drawer of his nightstand. He’s not sure if it’s anxiety or loneliness that’s keeping him awake, or if it’s any of them at all, but one thing he does know is that a joint will calm his screaming mind down. He doesn’t know a lot, but he’s grateful for small mercies.

He doesn’t take long to roll himself a joint, using the last of his weed (he makes a mental note to call William in the next few days to get some more), and once he’s ready, he slips a hoodie over his bare chest before stepping out onto the pitiful balcony that his apartment boasts. There’s just enough room for him to stand, but he can forget it if he’s fitting a chair out here. He doesn’t mind so much though, because he can get some fresh air (or as fresh as Vegas can get) without having to hang halfway out a window. And it means he can smoke, of course. He leans against the railing and lights the joint, putting it between his lips as he digs his phone out of his pocket.

He doesn’t know why he thinks it’s a good idea, but once he’s had a few puffs of his joint he goes into his messages and begins to read the last texts he and Brendon ever sent each other.

“You’re full of self-destructive behaviors tonight, Ryan,” he mutters to himself as his eyes adjust to the bright light of his phone.

He  _ knows _ he should’ve deleted his number, he  _ knows _ he should’ve at the very least deleted the texts when they broke up, but he didn’t want to at the time. He’d liked to punish himself from time to time. And then he forgot, and then...here he is. Sad and high and lonely and missing his ex for some fucking reason.

Brendon’s display name is even still  _ B _ , with a crescent-moon emoji beside it.

The texts are dated two weeks before they broke up, and Ryan isn’t sure what they were talking about, but they make his heart heavy all the same.

**How was your mom? I hope the train isn’t too late, I miss you :(**

_ She’s doing okay, I told her you sent your love. Me too baby, I miss you so fucking much _

**You cannot miss me more than I miss you, it’s just not possible.**

_ Hmm, I’m not sure, but I’m too sleepy to argue so I’ll let you believe it for now _

**That’s what I thought :p**

_ I’ll let you know when I’m on my way, okay? Also I love you, you stupid ass. _

**I love you too, moonshine**

Their relationship had broken down so much that Ryan doesn’t even remember them being this affectionate, but it’s there, clear as day. Was it the last time they said  _ I love you _ to each other? Ryan’s not sure, he thinks so, but he can’t remember. And then he remembers something else: Brendon would’ve been cheating on him at the time they sent these texts. Brendon had told him he was visiting his mom, who apparently wasn’t well, but what if he’d gone away with Dallon instead, lying to him?

The pot is calming down the crashing waves in his brain, but it doesn’t stop him from feeling so inescapably sad that he doesn’t realise he’s crying until tears splash onto the phone screen.

He sobs into his hands, still clutching his phone and the joint, his shoulders shaking and his lips trembling. It’s so dark and it’s so quiet, except Ryan’s small whimpers as he cries. He doesn’t know why he’s so sad, but sometimes it just hits him late at night and he’s powerless to stop it. And it  _ hurts _ .

He lets the tears run their course, until eventually his sobs die down to sniffles, and he wipes his face on his sleeve. He has to re-light the joint now, but he doesn’t mind so much. He takes a few puffs alongside deep breaths, trying to ground himself and stop himself from getting lost in his sadness. After a few minutes, his head begins to clear again, and he checks his phone for the time: 4:12am. Okay. Work in four hours. He can do this.

He finishes the joint and then puts it out in the ashtray by the door, before hugging his hoodie tighter around himself and stepping inside. The pot has soothed him, and he begins to feel marshmallow-y as he climbs back into bed, not bothering to take the hoodie off. He opens his phone to make sure he’s got an alarm set and sees that he’s still on his message history with Brendon.

**I love you too, moonshine**

  
He swallows heavily, tears rising to his eyes once again, and he’s not even aware of his fingers moving as he begins to type. He sleepily presses send, a voice in the back of my mind telling him that _ that was a bad idea, you dumbass _ , but it’s too late, and he drifts off to sleep, holding his phone to his chest and thinking about the moon.


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post these next three chapters here when i posted them on wattpad, oops!

_ Before _

Brendon was eighteen when he first met Ryan.

He used to skateboard, mostly because he thought it made him look cool, but also because his friends were riding skateboards and smoking pot and he didn’t want to be the only one not doing it. So he saved up all his money from working after school in his mom’s grocery shop, and he bought himself a second-hand skateboard. He wanted his friends to think he was cool.

They thought he was cool already, without the skateboard, but he didn’t know that.

It was a warm June afternoon, and he was at his usual skate park with Frank, the Way brothers and Spencer. The Ways were already high as kites, and Spencer was leaning against a tree reading a book, but Frank was happy to skate with Brendon. He’d only had the damn board for about two weeks, and he kept falling off, and he was sure that Frank was beyond pissed off with his constant asking for help (he wasn’t), but he still wanted to skate.

So, with scraped knees and sunburn on his nose, Brendon tried to copy the tricks Frank was showing him. He was practicing so hard, sweat dripping down his face as he tried to do a kickflip, but then he got distracted and he fell on his face. Someone new had arrived.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late.”

Brendon hadn’t been sure of his sexuality back then; he knew he liked girls, and he had the same fuzzy feelings when he looked at some of the boys, too, but he didn’t quite get it. The new guy, though, had Brendon’s heart thundering in his chest.

From what Brendon could see from his position on the floor, he had curly brown hair and a sharp jaw, and a shy smile on his face. His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, though the vibe of his outfit didn’t really match - it was like his sunglasses said ‘cool’ but his shirt and waistcoat said ‘just fallen out of a haberdashery’. He was undeniably  _ pretty _ .

He saw Frank’s hand appear in his peripheral vision and he looked up at his friend, who was smirking. “Get up, idiot. You’re bleeding.” Frank said, and Brendon felt his cheeks heat up as he took his hand and got to his feet.

Together they walked - or rather, Frank walked and Brendon limped - over to the rest of the group. Even Spencer had put his book down to converse, which was a miracle in itself. The new guy turned towards them as they approached, nodding his head towards Frank.

“Hey, man. How’s it going?” said Frank, offering a jerk of his head in return.

"Hey, Frank. Good to see you again." New Guy said, his voice smooth like honey or syrup or -

Frank nudged Brendon, knocking him out of his daydream. “Huh?” he said, looking between Frank and New Guy. He had  _ not _ been listening.

New Guy laughed, the sound reminding Brendon of birdsong or church bells or - “I  _ said _ , I’m Ryan.” He took off his sunglasses, revealing the nicest pair of brown eyes Brendon had ever seen. “I’m a new friend of Spencer’s.”

Brendon had momentarily forgotten his own name in the midst of gay panic, but Frank nudging him once more with his skinny elbows brought him back to reality for just enough time for him to introduce himself. “Hi. I’m Brendon.” he cleared his throat, holding out a hand before realising it had blood on it and taking it back awkwardly. “I’d shake your hand but, uh, I don’t wanna accidentally give you hepatitis or something.”

New Guy -  _ Ryan _ \- arched a perfect eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching. “If you’re worried you might have hepatitis, you should probably get tested.”

“I didn’t - I don’t - I mean -” Brendon stammered, his heartbeat racing in his chest. He didn’t want Ryan to think he was some disease-ridden maniac who went about offering hepatitis to people, but it was difficult to get that across when Ryan was as gorgeous as he was. “I’m a virgin,” he spat out.

Frank burst out laughing at his expense, and Brendon hid his face in his hands, wishing that the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from this embarrassment. But it didn’t, and Ryan just shook his head, fighting a smile, before turning to Spencer, who’d by then gone back to his book.

Head spinning, Brendon vaguely heard someone calling his name, and he turned around to see the Way brothers waving him over. He went and sat with them, Frank heading back to the half-pipe, as they lit up yet another joint.

Gerard was the older of the two, and also the more irresponsible; he had a bad habit of flirting with everything that had a heartbeat, and was the group’s sole provider of illegal substances. He also dealt drugs from time to time, but nobody needed to know that. His younger brother, Mikey, was skinny and the same age as Brendon. He wasn’t quite following in Gerard’s footsteps - he at least had a legal job - but wherever Gerard was, Mikey was usually a few steps behind. It was a well-known fact that both brothers had a hard-on for Frank, who at the time didn’t have an interest in either of them (he would later go on to date Mikey but sleep with his brother behind his back, the aftermath of which tearing the brothers apart so devastatingly that they only started speaking again when their grandmother died).

“He’s hot, isn’t he?” Gerard said, passing Brendon the joint so that he could have a smoke or two. He really should’ve been cleaning his scraped hands and elbows, but he had other things on his mind - hot guy Ryan being one of them.

“Who?” Brendon replied, playing dumb. He took a drag of the spliff, still not quite used to smoking but slowly getting the hang of it. He wasn't having coughing fits whenever he smoked, at least. That would’ve given hot guy Ryan another reason to think him a loser.

"You  _ know _ who." Gerard replied, rolling his eyes as he took the joint back from Brendon. "Tell him, Mikes."

Mikey nodded slowly, his eyes unfocused. The guy spent most of his life in a daze, it was hard to believe that he functioned at all. "What Gee said."

"Helpful," Gerard muttered, about to roll his eyes yet again (his eyeballs never seemed to stay still, constantly rotating in his head) when he suddenly smirked, leaning closer to Brendon. "Don't look, but hot guy Ryan's staring at you."

Of course, Brendon being the idiot he was, he turned and looked behind him, pretending to be casual and failing miserably. His eyes caught Ryan's from across the grass, and what made Brendon even weaker was that Ryan  _ smiled _ at him.

"I'm gonna go skate," Brendon announced, getting to his feet and grabbing his board. It was too much, too many butterflies at once. Not to mention that he was a massive coward and wouldn't  _ dream  _ of asking hot guy Ryan for his number. 

He spent the next couple of hours skating with Frank, and when the sky began to get dark, he knew that he should probably head home. Even at eighteen he had a curfew, which he thought was dumb but couldn’t be bothered to argue.

He was saying his goodbyes to his friends when Ryan jumped to his feet, mumbling something about walking him to the gate. He tried to play it cool as they walked together in silence, but when they got to the gate, he found that the connection between his brain and his mouth had failed completely, and he was stuck looking into Ryan's gorgeous eyes like a fool.

"Um," Ryan said, breaking eye contact and looking towards the floor, forcing Brendon to snap out of it. He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and continued. "Sorry, this is probably really weird, but I - um - well I was - I was wondering - canigetyournumber?"

Brendon blinked, a smile creeping up on his face as he saw the blush that tinted Ryan's cheeks. "I, um, didn't quite catch that. Can you repeat it for me?" He said, his heart full of hope. He was sure he'd heard it right, but he wanted Ryan to say it again. Just to be sure.

Ryan groaned, burying his face in his hands. "No, I'm so awkward!" He said, his voice muffled. "I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," Brendon admitted with a small shrug.

Ryan peeked at Brendon from between his fingers, their eyes searching each other's. Then Ryan sighed, letting his hands fall away from his face. "Can I get your number?" He asked, his voice quietly hopeful.

Brendon grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Yeah, sure you can. You got a pen?"

Ryan nodded, pulling one out from the pocket of his waistcoat, and he handed it over to Brendon, who grabbed both the pen and his hand and proceeded to scrawl the digits on Ryan's skin. They were close enough so that Brendon could smell Ryan's cologne; leather, with a hint of vanilla. It drove him crazy.

"There," he said, handing the pen back to Ryan and stepping away. "Don't lose it."

Ryan laughed, holding his hand close to his chest. "I won't. See you around, hepatitis Brendon."

_ God fucking damn it _ . "See ya, Ryan."

And Brendon went home, feeling like he was walking on clouds. He was late, but he didn't care, because a cute guy had asked for his number, and he was so excited to hear from him.

~

Brendon’s phone began to ring at 9pm, while he was in the middle of watching some mindless YouTube videos, and his heart jumped as he saw a number he didn’t recognise on the screen. He answered it, a timid “Hello?” escaping his lips.

“Hey, it’s Ryan,” came a voice on the other end, and Brendon bit his lip, taking a deep breath. “Is it okay to call?”

It took Brendon a second to respond. “Yeah, yeah sure, it’s all good.”

“Are you sure?” Ryan suddenly sounded unsure and even a little bit anxious. “I can just text if it’s easier, I don’t wanna -”

“It’s fine, honest.” Brendon crossed his legs on the bed, closing his laptop so he could concentrate. “I’m just surprised to hear from you so soon.”

Ryan hummed, and he could be heard shuffling around, wherever he was. “I’m not gonna ask for someone’s number and then not talk to him, am I?”

“I dunno, you could’ve just been making fun of me. Y’know,  _ ha ha, stupid hepatitis Brendon, let’s get his number but not actually text him because ew who would want to do that? _ ”

“Hey, no, that’s not it at all. I’m genuinely interested in talking to you, you fool.”

“Hm, are you sure? ‘Cause I know that once you get to know me, you’ll be running for the hills.”

“Then I’m going to prove you wrong. You won’t be able to get rid of me.”

“Is that a challenge, Ryan?” His heart was pounding, but in a good way. Was this what flirting was like? He wasn’t too sure, but he thought so. And it felt  _ good _ .

“Yeah, it is a challenge,  _ Brendon _ .”

_ Fuck, he loved the way Ryan said his name. _

“Challenge accepted. What do you wanna know first?”

They spent the next few hours talking about anything and everything, from their favorite movies (Brendon’s was  _ Monsters, Inc. _ , Ryan’s was  _ Love, Actually _ ) to what three things they’d take with them to a deserted island (Brendon said a shovel, a copy of  _ Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban _ , and a pot, which made Ryan laugh because  _ what the fuck would you need a shovel for on a deserted island? Fossils won’t do you much good there _ and Brendon spent forty minutes trying to justify himself while Ryan laughed on the other end of the phone). 

Brendon had never connected that well with anyone before, not even his best friends. By the time they reached a lull in the conversation, they realised that the sun was beginning to rise. Brendon decided he’d probably better get some sleep, but promised to text Ryan during the day - y’know, to further convince him that talking to him was a waste of time.

That was his excuse, anyway. 


	7. Chapter 6

**I looked up at the moon tonight, and I thought of you.**

Brendon hadn’t anticipated waking up on his day off to see a text from his ex, but here he is, lying in bed, reading the message over and over again while his fiancé showers in the next room.

He knows it’s Ryan’s number; he may have done the sensible thing and deleted all traces of him from his phone back when they broke up, but that doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have his number memorised in the part of his brain labeled ‘stupid information’.

He’s still reading the message when Dallon walks back into the room, and he quickly hides his phone, pasting an innocent smile on his face. 

“What are you up to?” Dallon asks, his eyebrows furrowing as he towel-dries his hair. He’s in his underwear, mostly dry, but a few small droplets of water still run down his chest, and it’s all Brendon can focus on. “B? You okay?”

Brendon blinks, looking up at his fiancé, who comes and sits on the edge of the bed next to him. “Fine. I’m fine.” he swallows, running a hand through Dallon’s dark hair. “Just had a bad dream that I can’t seem to shake, is all.” he lies, hoping that the lie isn’t etched all over his face.

Dallon frowns again, but this time it’s concern as opposed to suspicion. “What happened?”

“It’s fine, it’s nothing awful, it’s just -” he shrugs, but then his eyes meet Dallon’s and all he wants to do is tell the truth,  _ Ryan texted me _ , but the truth is so hard to get out. "I dreamt that you met someone else." He looks away as he says it, because he's fully aware that Dallon will know he's lying if he keeps looking into his eyes as he speaks.

There's a pause, and then Dallon laughs, just a little, getting to his feet. "I love you, Brendon, but you're an idiot."

He makes a face, offended. "Wow, thanks."

Dallon pulls a t-shirt over his head. "Why would I ever want someone else when I've got the most perfect man sitting in my bed?"

_ That's what I thought seven years ago _ . Brendon banishes the thought into the corner of his mind, the same place Ryan's number and his favourite movie is. "Where is he? I'd like to meet him."

His fiancé fixes him with a deadpan stare, folding his arms. "Please tell me you're not being serious. Please tell me you know I'm talking about you when I say that I have the most perfect man sitting in my bed."

Brendon copies him, folding his arms too, a smirk dancing across his lips. "No, I think you've got the wrong man. You must be talking about someone else."

Dallon's eyes turn playful, an eyebrow arching. "Is that so?"

Brendon nods. "Mm-hm."

In three quick strides, Dallon's on the bed, grabbing Brendon's legs and pulling him down so that he's lying on his back. He pins Brendon's wrists above his head and kisses him deeply, Brendon's phone falling to the floor with a dull  _ thunk _ , the text forgotten as his legs wrap around his fiance's waist.

He's going to make Dallon late for work, but when he's kissing him like this, how can he resist?

~

Brendon needs to go out and get groceries, but he can’t find his phone. He looks all over the house for it, even searching the unlikely places, like the medicine cabinet in the upstairs bathroom, and under the kitchen sink.

He’s standing in the bedroom, hands on his hips, when he sees it poking out from under the bed. 

Rolling his eyes, he picks it up, sitting on the edge of the bed as unlocks it, pushing his hair out of his eyes. And there’s that text again. He’d all but forgotten about it, thanks to Dallon and his hands and his mouth. But now it’s back, shoving its way to the forefront of his mind, demanding to be noticed. And boy, does he  _ notice _ .

**I looked up at the moon tonight, and I thought of you.**

He reads the timestamp: 4:22am. What the fuck was Ryan doing in the middle of the night to make him decide that texting his ex-boyfriend was a good idea?

Brendon’s mouth is dry, and his hands shake as he reads and rereads the message. Back when they were young, and in love, Ryan had been fascinated by the moon, and he loved it almost as much as he loved Brendon. Ryan called him ‘moonshine’ one night, and for some reason, it stuck, despite the fact that moonshine was a type of alcohol (this was a fact that he reminded Ryan of constantly). So for Ryan to suddenly text him now, two years after their breakup, and tell him that he’d thought of him while looking at the moon, is a big fucking deal.

He shakes his head, snapping out of it as he gets to his feet. It doesn’t matter. Ryan was probably drunk when he sent that, and anyway, it was more than likely meant for his own fiancé. He’d just sent it to the wrong person. That was it.

He has groceries to buy before Dallon gets home, anyway.

He slips his feet into his sneakers before grabbing his keys and his jacket, stuffing a few carrier bags into his pocket. It doesn’t take him long to walk to Walmart, and the blast of warm air that punches him in the face when he steps in almost knocks him off his feet. He grabs a trolley and puts his earbuds in, pressing play on a random playlist while he gets into the ‘zone’. Once he’s in the ‘zone’, grocery shopping becomes a little easier. It’s when he’s got no list and no distraction that it all becomes suffocating.

They’re out of almost everything, so Brendon goes through each aisle, grabbing this and that and putting it in the trolley, humming along to his music. He’s looking at the peanut butter, trying to decide which brand that Dallon favors, when someone taps him on the shoulder.

He jumps, yanking his earbuds out, ready to give whoever disturbed him a piece of his mind, but he decides against it when he sees Frank Iero standing there.  _ Thank fuck _ , he thinks. With the way his luck’s been going recently, he was fully expecting to see Ryan. That would’ve been a disaster.

“Hey, Frank,” he says, pressing a hand to his heart.

“Hey, you alright?” Frank’s eyebrows furrow, but he’s smirking. In his hands he has a basket with a few things, bread and milk and cheese, just the essentials, and he too has earbuds in his ears. 

“Yeah, sorry,” he chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “I thought you were - never mind. Thought you were someone else.”

“D’you think I was Ryan?” Brendon winces. “Yeah, I heard about that. Must’ve been rough, seeing him after all that time.”

He shrugs. Frank’s not wrong. “How’d you find out?”

“Dallon told Mikey, who told me.”

Brendon’s jaw tightens. One thing - maybe the only thing - that he hates about Dallon is how much of a gossip he is. The tiniest tidbit of information, once given to Dallon, will be spread around to all of their friends and then some within a matter of days, and it  _ really _ gets on Brendon’s nerves. He didn’t want everyone and their mom knowing that he’d bumped into his ex-boyfriend, thank you very much.

“Did he.” It’s a statement, not a question, and he rolls his eyes. “It was nice of him to let you guys know.”

“To be fair to the guy, he was worried about you when he told Mikey. Said he wasn’t sure how you were taking it, seeing as you never talk about you-know-who.” Frank shrugs. “Anyway. It’s Mikey’s birthday in a couple weeks, we’re all gonna go out for a few drinks, hit up  _ Jinxxd _ , have a good time. You in?”

Despite not seeing them for a long time, especially since becoming Dallon’s boyfriend (Dallon doesn’t like Brendon’s friends too much, for some reason), Brendon feels happy that he’s been invited out with them. He half-expects them to not bother anymore, but it makes him feel better to know they still think about him. He just needs to work on keeping in touch more. Especially with Spencer.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m in,” Brendon smiles widely, nodding. “Let me know when and where and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome!” Frank grins, grabbing his phone from his pocket, presumably to let Mikey know that Brendon will be there on his birthday. He looks down at his phone, and then glances up at Brendon through his lashes. “Dallon can come too, if he wants.”

Brendon isn’t sure Dallon will  _ want _ to come, but he’s happy that they’ve offered, nonetheless. It’s no secret that Dallon doesn’t like Brendon’s friends, and it’s also no secret that they much prefer Brendon’s first choice in boyfriend, rather than his second. But it’s grown-up of them to offer, despite all of this.

“I’ll ask him,” says Brendon, licking his lips. “Thanks, Frank.”

“Hey, it’s no problem. I’d better get going, though, Gee will be upset if he doesn’t have milk with his tea tonight.” he rolls his eyes but there’s a smile on his face and a blush on his cheeks. “See you soon, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Frank salutes and then wanders off, his music blaring, air-drumming to whatever he has playing in his ears. Frank’s been Brendon’s best friend since they were in elementary school, spending their younger days playing pranks on the teachers instead of doing their schoolwork. They spent more time in detention than out of it, and everyone expected them to change when they went to high school, but they didn’t. Brendon calmed down a little, but he was still eager to help Frank be as chaotic as possible.

It fills Brendon with warmth to know that his best friend still likes him, even after everything.

He finishes his shopping and heads home, the thought of his fiancé gossiping about him rocketing around in his brain and souring his mood. He gets home before Dallon, managing to pack the shopping away and grab himself a glass of banana-strawberry smoothie before Dallon walks in the door. 

He’s sitting at the dining table, his laptop open and his glass in his hand, when Dallon comes up and presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Hey, you.” he says, shrugging off his jacket. Brendon grunts in response, an ugly mood creeping into him. He does his best to shrug it off, because he doesn’t want to be like  _ this _ again, not with Dallon, but he can’t help it. He’s upset, and he has no idea what Dallon said about him to Mikey. “You okay?”

Brendon closes his laptop, taking a deep breath through his nose before looking up at Dallon. “I saw Frank today,” his voice shakes, along with his hands, but he doesn’t miss the almost imperceptible look of disgust that flits across Dallon’s face as he talks about his best friend. “I was in Walmart and bumped into him while I was looking for your peanut butter. I hope I got the right one, by the way.”

Dallon pauses, leaning against the back of the couch, his hands folded over his chest. “Is he okay?”

Brendon gets to his feet, repeating  _ calm, calm, calm, calm _ over and over in his head, like a mantra. He can’t be mean. No matter how upset he is (which is a lot), he can’t be mean. This is Dallon, not Ryan. This is a completely different boyfriend, and he doesn’t need to be mean. Dallon’s not mean.

He takes a deep breath. “Why did you tell Mikey that we saw Ryan the other night?”

This time, the disgust is clear on Dallon’s face. “What did Frank tell you? ‘Cause it’s probably not true.”

“Please answer my question, Dallon.”

Dallon exhales through his nose, rolling his eyes. “I was just chatting to Mikey, and he asked me how it had gone at  _ Jinxxd _ the other night, and I told him that it was a good time, apart from the fact that we saw your scummy ex-boyfriend.”

“Please don’t talk about him like that,” the words are out of his mouth before he can stop them, before he realises how bad that sounds. 

“Oh come on, Brendon, nobody needs to defend that asshole, least of all you. He’s a scumbag, and you know it.”

It's true, but he doesn’t want to say it. Besides, for once this isn’t about Ryan.

“As usual, you’re missing the point.” Brendon folds his arms, the shaking spreading up his arms and causing his body to vibrate with anger.  _ Don’t be mean, don’t be mean _ .

“And what is  _ that _ , my darling?”

“I’m upset because you’re gossiping about me behind my back!”

“Come on, Brendon, it wasn’t  _ gossiping _ \- Mikey asked a question and I answered it. Is that not allowed now?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

Dallon huffs, rolling his eyes. “I just don’t see why you’re getting so upset about it.”

“I’m upset because you’re not listening to me!”

“Okay, Brendon,” Dallon brushes past him and grabs a chair, sitting down. He crosses one leg over the other and folds his arms, looking expectantly up at the younger man. “I was listening to you before, but now I’m  _ really  _ listening to you.”

Brendon pinches the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. “Don’t do this.” he says, and he hears Dallon splutter.

“Don’t do what? You wanted me to listen to you, isn’t that what I’m doing?”

“No, you’re patronising me, just like you always do.” he opens his eyes, shaking his head. “I can’t deal with you when you’re like this. Come and find me when you’re ready to apologise for being an asshole.”

Without waiting for an answer, Brendon leaves the room, storming upstairs and heading to their bedroom. He slams the door behind him, and he throws himself onto the bed, his whole body vibrating with sadness and anger. He waits, breathing heavily, for Dallon to come up and apologise, but he doesn’t. He’s left alone.


	8. Chapter 7

_ U up? _

Dallon would lose his shit if he found out that Brendon’s texting his ex, but right now he doesn’t give a fuck. It’s 2am, he’s lonely, he’s pissed off, and Ryan’s the only person he can see being awake right now. When he’s upset he tends to self-destruct a little.

Once the message reads  _ delivered _ , it almost immediately changes to  _ read _ , and Brendon can see the little bubbles that indicate Ryan's typing.

**What do you want?**

He expected this. Ryan may have messaged him first, but he can almost guarantee that message wasn’t sent while sober. Brendon, however, is sober, if not an absolute moron for what he’s doing, and it’s understandable that Ryan would be shitty as a knee-jerk response. It still stings a little, though.

Another text pings through a few minutes later, just when Brendon’s all but given up.

**Sorry, that was uncalled for. I’ve had a bad day, and I wasn’t expecting you to want to talk to me.**

_ It’s okay, I know what it’s like to be messaged out of the blue. I should’ve known. Sorry. _

**Touché, Brendon. In my defence, I was high when I sent that, but by the time I realised, it was too late, and you didn’t say anything, so I assumed that I was off the hook. I guess not**

_ I think I was in a state of shock, to be honest. _

**I would be too if I were you, honestly. I’m surprised you didn’t call the cops.**

_ Oh yeah, and say what? 911, what’s your emergency? Hi, please help, my ex-boyfriend is dope-texting me again _

**Okay, first off, it was one time, and second, I’m not sure dope-texting is a thing.**

_ Sure it is, it’s like drunk-texting, except high off your tits _

**I - don’t know what to say to that**

_ You don’t have to say anything at all, it’s okay _

Brendon can’t believe that he forgot how easy it is to talk to Ryan. His heart is beating fast and his palms are sweaty, and he’s not sure if he’s feeling like this because he’s talking to Ryan again, or because he’s not  _ meant  _ to be talking to Ryan. He doesn’t care either way, because it feels nice. Nothing is expected of him, not like there is when he talks to Dallon - Dallon expects him to talk a certain way, say certain things, use certain phrases, but Ryan won’t get upset if he says a word he never normally says, or accidentally forgets kisses on the end of the message.

They talk until the sun starts to rise, jumping from one topic to another and never staying on one for too long. They avoid talking about Dallon, Pete, each other, their relationship, and why they’re texting, but they still find things to talk about. Ryan talks about the new dog his mom got, and Brendon talks about the song that’s been in his head all week. Ryan asks Brendon if mimes mime using the toilet, and Brendon asks Ryan if he’s ever seen a UFO. 

Brendon falls asleep just after 6am, and when he wakes again a few hours later, he’s disoriented and the house is silent. He rubs his eyes, checking the time: 11:14am. He panics, leaping off the bed - he starts work in forty-five minutes. 

He rushes around, throwing on some clothes, brushing his teeth and using the bathroom before grabbing his phone and keys and practically running out the front door. Luckily, it doesn’t take him long to walk to the library, so with some breathless speed-walking he manages to get there with two minutes to spare.

Thankfully, instead of demanding he get to work right away, his boss laughs and tells him to take a breather before he starts. His boss is chill; a woman in her sixties with glasses and long, blonde hair. She’s firm but fair, and the nicest boss Brendon’s ever had. He’s hardly ever late, so when he is, she often lets it slide. Apart from that one time when he was an hour late. She didn’t let  _ that  _ slide.

Once he’s got his breath and stopped sweating, Maria gestures to a trolley overflowing with books, and he grins. This is his favorite task, and he loses himself in it within a matter of seconds. While gliding through the aisles with his trolley, Brendon is never more at peace. He doesn’t think about Dallon, or Ryan, or the fact that he’s about to fall asleep; it’s just him and his books and the soothing quiet that the library offers.

~

When Brendon arrives home, the first thing he notices is the smell of chicken pot pie - his favorite meal. He takes off his denim jacket and hangs it up, taking his bag into the main room with him. The dining table is set for two, using Dallon’s best cutlery, and the vase that Dallon’s mom gave them when they moved into the house together is in the middle, overflowing with brightly colored tulips.

He can hear music in the kitchen, along with Dallon humming, and he sets his bag down on the couch before knocking on the door. He’s fully expecting Dallon to continue ignoring him for the rest of the day, even the evening, but it seems as though he’s wrong. Unless Dallon was making a romantic meal for himself and someone that wasn’t Brendon, of course. 

The door opens and Dallon stands there, his face red and his hair sticking up. He’s wearing the novelty apron that Brendon had gotten him last Christmas, a black one that read  _ World’s Worst Cook _ in white lettering. Dallon smiles shyly, reaching for his phone and turning down Iron Maiden.

“Hey,” he says, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I didn’t realise the time, sorry.” He clears his throat. “Listen, Bren, I - I’m sorry. About yesterday. I shouldn’t have been so defensive, I spent all night thinking about it and -” he takes a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was wrong of me to talk to Mikey about Ryan without talking to you about it first. And I understand that you don’t want to talk about it right now, but if you do want to talk about it, then I’m here, okay?”

Brendon’s lower lip trembles, and he fiddles with his sleeve. “Is this what this -” he gestures to the table and the mess in the kitchen. “- is all about?”

“Well,” Dallon shrugs. “It’s been a while since we had a date or anything, and I fucked up pretty badly, so I just - I wanted to do something nice, y’know?”

Brendon steps forward and throws himself at his fiancé, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face against his shoulder. It takes less than a second for Dallon to hug him back, holding him tightly and making him feel safe like his hugs always do.

All the way home Brendon had been thinking about what the atmosphere at home would be like after yesterday, and it had made him so anxious he thought he was going to throw up on the sidewalk. Clearly he hadn’t given Dallon enough credit though, because nowhere in his anxious brain did he expect  _ this _ . 

“I love you,” Brendon murmurs into Dallon’s shoulder, his voice muffled by his shirt. “With everything I am.”

“Fuck, baby, I love you too,” says Dallon, nuzzling his cheek against Brendon’s hair. “Does this mean I’m forgiven?”

Brendon scoffs, leaning back and eyeing Dallon playfully. “You’re gonna have to do a lot more than make me dinner and buy me flowers, Mr Weekes.”

“Oh yeah?” Dallon arches an eyebrow, his eyes darting from the younger man’s eyes to his mouth and back again. “Dinner’s almost ready, but the evening is ours to do what we want,” he grabs a handful of Brendon’s ass, biting his lower lip. “What did you have in mind?”

“Let’s take a bath,” Brendon says, enjoying the way his fiancé’s eyes light up. “Together, of course. I want candles and bubbles and soft music and  _ you _ .”

Instead of replying, Dallon kisses him hard, his arms tightening around Brendon’s slim frame. Brendon kisses back, tangling his fingers in Dallon’s messy hair and biting on his lower lip, making him moan. They’re just about ready to take it to the bedroom - or even just the couch - when the timer on the oven goes off, beeping loudly and slamming them back to reality slightly harder than necessary.

Dallon licks his lips and smiles, his cheeks flushed as he extracts himself from Brendon, who giggles to himself, taking his place at the dining table.  _ All is as it’s meant to be _ , he thinks to himself while he waits for Dallon to serve dinner; they’re back to how they were, and yesterday was just a tiny blip, even if the vibrating of Brendon’s phone is trying its best to tell him otherwise. 

~

A week passes without much happening, and against his better judgement, Brendon is still texting Ryan.

They’re only sending memes and the like to each other, not a whole lot in the way of conversation (except when Ryan won’t stop talking about his mom’s dog), but Brendon still wouldn't like Dallon to find out. He knows exactly how he’d react.

Brendon and Dallon both have the day off, but the weather outside is god-awful, rain lashing against the window, so they’ve decided to stay inside and watch a movie or two instead of their original plan, which was to go for a long walk alongside the river. Brendon is desperate to watch Monsters, Inc. for some reason, and Dallon indulges him, microwaving some popcorn and digging out the Star Wars cups they got from the cinema last year from the back of the cupboard. 

They share the couch, Brendon’s feet in Dallon’s lap, the bowl of popcorn balancing on Brendon’s knees and their drinks on the coffee table. Brendon presses play and the movie starts, and he sinks into it, thinking of nothing else but Mike Wazowski.

While Dallon’s choosing the next movie and getting more drinks, Brendon’s phone buzzes, startling him. It’s Ryan, sending him another meme, this one about ducks. He chuckles to himself just as Dallon walks in with two Star Wars cups full of Pepsi, his eyebrow arching quizzically as Brendon types laughing emojis as a reply.

“Something funny?” he asks, moving Brendon’s legs so that he can sit down.

“Naw, just a dumb meme Frank sent me,” Brendon replies, still looking at his phone. Ryan replies ( **It’s fucking true though, right?! You can’t tell me that it’s not, B, you just can’t** ) and Brendon can’t help but grin, ignoring the frown his fiancé throws his way.

“You sure it’s just a meme?” Brendon nods, locking his phone and looking up at Dallon, who folds his arms. “Let’s see.”

Brendon’s heart jumps a little but he stays cool. He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t get it,” he says, getting to his feet and setting his phone on the coffee table next to his drink. “I’m gonna go pee, you decide what you wanna watch yet?”

“Almost,” Dallon replies, watching him go.

Brendon doesn’t think about the fact that he left his phone behind while he pees; he’s only gonna be five minutes, he doesn’t need it. He washes his hands, humming under his breath, before leaving the bathroom.

“Hey babe,” he says going back into the living room. “I reckon we should -” he stops at the fury on Dallon’s face, and for a second he doesn’t know why.

But then he sees what’s in Dallon’s hand: his phone. The realisation hits him like a punch to the gut.

Dallon’s snooping through his phone.


	9. Chapter 8

There’s silence as Brendon and Dallon lock eyes, waiting for the other to break it. Dallon’s stubborn, but Brendon is even more so, and so it’s Dallon who demands, “What the fuck is  _ this _ , Brendon?” as he brandishes the phone.

Brendon tilts his chin up indignantly, folding his arms across his chest. “I can already see you jumping to conclusions, so how about you tell me what you think it is?”

“I think,” Dallon says, shaking his head as he gets to his feet and begins pacing. “That you’re a fucking idiot.” He continues on, ignoring Brendon muttering  _ thanks _ under his breath. “What the fuck are you  _ doing _ ? Are you out of your  _ mind _ ?! What fucking possessed you to decide that texting your ex was a good idea and could end anything other than badly?”

Brendon rolls his eyes. “In my defence, I was pretty upset that night. I wonder why…” he taps his chin thoughtfully, his eyes locked on Dallon, whose own eyes blaze with fury.

“This isn’t about me,” Dallon hisses, walking over to Brendon and prodding him in the chest to punctuate his next words. “This is about you, texting your repulsive ex - who, by the way, obviously wants to get in your pants - behind my back!”

Despite Dallon trying to tower over him (even though they’re roughly the same height), Brendon stands his ground and doesn’t even flinch as Dallon’s voice rises. He’s had a lot of practise dealing with men trying to intimidate him, and it doesn’t work anymore. 

“I have no idea where you got Ryan wanting to fuck me from, but go off I guess.” Brendon shrugs nonchalantly.

“Oh come on,” Dallon raises his eyebrows in disbelief, unlocking Brendon’s phone and scrolling through the messages again. “You can’t see it? It’s obvious.”

“Even if Ryan did want to get back into my pants, which he doesn’t, what makes you think that I would let him?”

“Well look what happened last time.”

Brendon rolls his eyes, groaning in frustration. “Oh, I wondered when you’d throw that back in my face.”

Back when Brendon and Ryan had first broken up, and Brendon had moved into Dallon’s tiny apartment, he’d made the mistake of going back to the apartment he’d shared with Ryan to pick up some more of his stuff and have a cup of coffee with him, as friends. They’d been broken up for well over a month at this point, but it didn’t stop one thing leading to another and they ended up having sex on the couch.

Afterwards, Brendon had abruptly come to his senses, leaving the apartment without any of the stuff he went in there for. He went back to Dallon’s in a state, telling him what had happened and facing the consequences - Dallon made him go and stay with his mom for three weeks, and didn’t talk to him at all during that time.

Brendon pinches the bridge of his nose as he thinks about the incident, closing his eyes against tears that threaten to expose his emotions. “Look, Dallon -”

“Forget it.” Dallon shoves Brendon’s phone at his chest and walks down the hall towards the front door. “I don’t get why you’d want to talk to him after what he did to you, but what do I know? I’m just your fiancé.” he looks back at Brendon, shrugs, and then opens the door. “I’m going to Breezy’s. Don’t worry about calling me, I’m sure you’ll be too busy.”

And then he leaves, slamming the door harder than necessary, leaving Brendon with a furious fire burning in his chest. He’s livid. He can’t believe Dallon went through his phone like that, and not only that, he accused him of wanting to sleep with Ryan! What the fuck was up with that?

Brendon cries out in frustration, grabbing one of the cushions off of the couch and throwing it at the wall. It’s not enough; he hits it harder and harder against the wall, eventually dropping it to the floor and hitting the wall with his bare fists instead. It hurts, but it lets some of his frustration out, and now he’s less likely to go to Breezy’s and demand that Dallon sit the fuck down and listen to him. Even though he still kind of wants to do that.

He sinks to his knees, shoulders shaking with sobs. He doesn’t understand why Dallon just doesn’t listen to him anymore. They used to be so good with communication; what happened? He can’t figure it out. He’s not sure if he wants to figure it out.

~

For once, Ryan’s on his own, and he’s looking forward to having a relaxing night in by himself. He’s going to order some Chinese food, open up the bottle of rosé he bought on the way home from work, and watch  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ after a long bath.

He loves spending time with Pete, but tonight he’s got to do some preparation for Minnesota, leaving Ryan to his own devices. He doesn’t mind, though; maybe he and Pete are spending too much time together, because the sex is slowly beginning to lose its spark and sex at home is nowhere near as much of an adrenaline-rush as it is in the office. Mostly, though, Ryan’s just glad to have to not  _ be _ . 

Keeping up appearances with Pete is hard, especially when there’s so much going on in Ryan’s head all the fucking time and if Pete knew about even one percent of it, he’d drop him like a stone in a pond, that was for certain.

He runs his bath and orders his food to be delivered at 8pm, which will give him time to chill before it arrives. He lights a handful of tealights and sets them where he can around the bathtub and the sink. He empties perhaps more bubble bath than necessary into the water and then waits for the tub to fill before getting in. While lying in the bath, bubbles up to his chin, he closes his eyes and lets his mind do whatever it wants to. It’s like letting out a deep breath after he’s been holding it for five hours, and it feels good to unravel a bit. 

He thinks about Brendon, and the fact that they’ve been texting non-stop for about a week. His heart does a little hopskipjump whenever Brendon’s name flashes up on screen, the same way it did when they first met, but he’s not sure if it’s because of those same feelings or something else. Is it fear, or is it nerves?

His phone, on the closed lid of the toilet, lights up, and he sits up in the bath, drying his hands on a nearby towel before picking it up. It’s Brendon, and his heart does that thing again. It says,  _ what u up to? _ , and Ryan smiles a little, typing a reply with wrinkled fingers.

**Just having a bath, hbu?**

_ Oh, y’know, just feeling like shit, the usual. _

**What’s up?**

_ It’s nothing, just Dallon being an asshole again. You don’t wanna hear about it. It wouldn’t be fair. _

**Hey, Brendon, it’s fine, you can talk to me about it if you need to. Or I can just find him and knock seven shades of shit out of him, it’s your call.**

He decides that, after an hour, he’s had enough of his bath, and he stands up before pulling the plug out. Besides, his food will be here soon, so he should probably get out anyway. He rinses the remaining suds from his hair and makes sure his asshole is nice and clean, before wrapping a towel around his waist and stepping out into the hallway.

His phone buzzes in his hand but he ignores it for a moment, heading into his room to dry off. He sits on the edge of his bed, grabbing his hairbrush from the nightstand, and he reads Brendon’s reply as he runs the brush through his wet hair.

_ Why do you hate him so much? I’m the one that cheated on you, he just happened to be dumb enough to want to sleep with someone in a relationship. _

**I hate him because he was everything that I wasn’t.**

_ Well he’s not as perfect as you think he is. He went through my fucking phone Ryan. You never would’ve done that in a million years. _

**No I wouldn’t. What the fuck Brendon, why would he do that?**

_ Because I laughed at that duck meme you sent me and he got all suspicious asking me what was funny and wanting to know who was messaging me. He’s been really fucking weird recently, especially since we saw you that time. _

**That’s so messed up, I don’t get why he’d do that.**

Ryan gets to his feet, trading his towel for his bathrobe, opting out of underwear because if he can’t be naked (or naked under his bathrobe) in his own apartment, where can he be naked?

There’s a knock on the front door and he answers it, seeing a delivery driver with his food. He thanks them, gives them a tip and heads inside with his dinner, his stomach rumbling. He puts a little bit of everything into a bowl, grabs a fork and his rosé, and heads to the couch, tucking his feet underneath himself and settling in for a good time.

He’s an hour into  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ , three quarters of his food eaten, when there’s another knock on the door. His first thought is that it’s Brendon, considering that he hasn’t replied to his text yet, but he shakes the thought from his head. Brendon doesn’t know where he lives, and besides, why would he come  _ here _ , of all places?

He pauses the film and gets to his feet, padding across the carpet towards the front door, where whoever is knocking has knocked twice more. He opens it, seeing Pete, who’s holding a small bouquet of roses in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other.

“Hey,” says Ryan, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment at seeing him. “I thought you had stuff to do.”

He lets Pete in, taking the wine and flowers from him as he takes his shoes off. He’s still in his work clothes, shirt and tie and slacks, but his hair is hanging loose over his shoulders and his sleeves are rolled up.

“That can wait,” Pete replies, following Ryan as he heads back into the living room, setting the flowers carefully on the table alongside the wine. “I missed you.”

Ryan smiles and he steps towards Pete, wrapping his arms around his neck and kissing him deeply. No matter how much spark there may or may not be between them, Ryan cannot deny that kissing Pete is electric, especially when he winds his arms around Ryan’s waist and pulls him closer than he thought possible.

“Seems like you missed me too,” hums Pete, nuzzling his face into Ryan’s neck, feeling the younger man’s semi pressed against his thigh.

“I always miss you when you’re not around,” he tells Pete, as if he wasn’t hoping to see Brendon five minutes ago. His breath catches as Pete sucks at a spot just above his collarbone, making his knees weaken, and he grips a handful of Pete’s hair, biting his lip. “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.”

His boss laughs, nipping at his earlobe. “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear you use a Twilight quote and just assume that not seeing me for four hours has made you so horny that you can’t think properly.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” he swallows heavily as Pete grabs his ass with both hands and begins to grind their lower bodies together. “Fucking kiss me, would you?” he demands, and Pete rolls his eyes, muttering  _ please _ before obliging, crashing his mouth against Ryan’s in a bruising kiss.

They begin to walk towards Ryan’s room, breaking apart for less than a second to see where they’re going. Ryan pushes Pete down onto the bed, climbing on top of him and straddling his lap. He moves his mouth to the older man’s neck, his semi hardening as he hears Pete’s soft moans. He undoes Pete’s tie and unbuttons his shirt, his mouth moving down his body until he gets to his work slacks, pulling them off torturously slowly. 

He can hear his phone buzzing on the coffee table as if someone’s calling him, but he ignores it. Right now, he’s busy.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Pete gasps as Ryan mouths at his erection through his briefs. “I didn’t come here just to sleep with you, y’know.”

“I know,” says Ryan, moving back up Pete’s body to his mouth. “It’s just an added bonus.”


	10. Chapter 9

It takes longer for Brendon and Dallon to reconcile this time, and Brendon is still getting the silent treatment a week later, when it’s time for him to go out for Mikey’s birthday. Dallon’s sitting at the table with a cup of tea while Brendon hovers nearby, making sure he’s got his phone, wallet, keys and overnight bag.

“You’re not coming, then?” he asks Dallon, who doesn’t look up from his cup. “Fine. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t forget that I’m staying at Frank’s tonight.”

He hesitates for a moment longer, just in case Dallon does wish him a good evening, but he doesn’t. With a sigh, Brendon leaves the house, climbing into the cab that’s waiting outside. It doesn’t take long to get to Frank’s house, and he knocks on the door, shuffling from foot to foot. 

There’s a chill in the air, and Brendon feels apprehension nipping at his fingertips. Even though the only plan so far is drinking and dancing with his friends, he’s on edge, waiting for the night to throw a curveball at him, like it usually does.

Frank opens the door, grinning. He’s already started on the drinks, holding a bottle of beer in his hand. He waves Brendon in, offering him his own bottle almost immediately, and Brendon shrugs and takes it, setting his bag down beside the couch as he sits down.

“Just waiting for Gee and Mikey to get here, then we’ll head out,” Frank tells him, sitting down on the couch opposite. “They’re late, as fucking usual.” He takes a sip and then frowns at Brendon, as if he’s suddenly realising he’s alone. “No Dallon?”

Brendon fights the urge to roll his eyes. “No, he’s decided to stay home and have a one-person pity party.” He gulps down at least half of his beer as Frank’s frown deepens.

“How come? Trouble in paradise?”

Brendon scoffs. “Yeah, you could say that.” he replies, looking into his bottle. “He’s being a real dick recently; I don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Frank opens his mouth to ask more questions but then there’s a knock on the door. He leaps up and heads into the hallway, and seconds later, Brendon hears Gerard’s loud voice fill the house. The Way brothers step into the front room, Mikey with a rainbow feather boa around his shoulders and Gerard wearing a t-shirt that says  _ I’m with stupid _ on it, the arrow pointing to his right (which is, coincidentally, where Mikey usually stands). 

Brendon gets to his feet and hugs his friends, wishing Mikey a happy birthday. Frank asks if they’re all ready, and Brendon downs the rest of his beer before they head out and down the street towards  _ Jinxxd _ . Gerard and Mikey are already both high as kites, but Gerard still offers Frank and Brendon a puff on his joint (not a euphemism) before they head into the bar. Frank says yes while Brendon declines, thinking about the alcohol he’s about to drink instead.

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for them to get into the club, and even more surprisingly, they find a booth fairly close to the bar. Frank gets the first round in - a double rum and coke for Brendon, a mojito for Mikey, red wine for Gerard and whatever the fuck Frank wants - and they sit and drink for a while before Mikey drags Frank onto the dancefloor.

They’ve been there for a little over an hour when Brendon’s phone rings, vibrating in his pocket. It’s a good job he’s got vibration on, otherwise there’s no way he would hear it over the music of the bar. He digs it from his pocket as Mikey and Frank come back over, joined by Gerard, all three of them sweaty and grinning, and his heart thumps as he sees the name on the screen:

_ Ryan _ .

~

Ryan said goodbye to Pete twelve hours ago, and now he waits eagerly in bed for him to call. He said he’d call at 7pm, but now it’s 9pm and there’s been nothing. Pete’s definitely landed by now; as his assistant, Ryan had made a point of tracking the flight to see if it got to Minnesota safely. Just in case. You never know what could happen.

It gets to nine-thirty, and Ryan’s had enough, and his anxiety is through the roof. Pete  _ promised _ he’d call.  _ I should wait _ , the sensible side of him says, the side of him that's not freaking out.  _ He's probably busy settling in and having dinner with important people. _ But then the not-so-sensible side of him pipes up, the side of him that  _ is  _ freaking out, and it says  _ but what if he’s hurt? What if he’s forgotten about me? What if _ \- the thought makes him queasy -  _ he’s in bed with Patrick? _

_ He can be in bed with Patrick if he wants  _ -

The sensible side tries to argue, but he ignores it. He snatches up his phone and dials Pete’s number, his knee bouncing up and down. He’s convinced it’s going to go to voicemail when Pete answers, and suddenly there's a lump in his throat.

“Ryan?” he says, as if he doesn’t understand why Ryan’s calling him.

“Hey,” Ryan says, his heart racing with nerves. “You didn’t call, I was worried.”

“Oh, did I? Sorry, I -” he sounds distracted. “- I got caught up with some stuff and didn’t realise the time.”

“That’s cool, just so long as you’re okay. How’s Minnesota?"

"Yeah, it's - it's good, it's been raining since I got here though."

Ryan chuckles. "Yeah, that sounds about right. What -” he starts to ask Pete about his plans for tomorrow, but he's interrupted, and not by Pete 

“Who’s calling you at this hour?” says a voice in the background, and Ryan’s body tenses when he hears it.

_ Patrick. _

“Just my assistant, checking in. Nobody important.” That stings, and when Ryan opens his mouth to defend himself, Patrick continues talking, his voice grating.

“Why’s  _ he _ calling you? You’re off the clock, aren’t you?” his voice drips with disdain. “Doesn’t matter. Come back to bed, Pete - your dick isn’t going to suck itself.”

Ryan feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “Pete?” he chokes out. “What the  _ fuck _ ?”

“Ryan, I - it’s nothing - we’ll talk about this later - I gotta go -”

“ _ Peter  _ -”

“Bye, Ryan.”

He hangs up and Ryan sits there, dumbstruck. His worst fears have come true. Tears roll down his face before he can stop them, and he tries to suppress a sob, but he can’t control it and it spills over, leaving him shaking.

He knows he shouldn’t be upset; he’s just Pete’s unimportant assistant, someone he can stick his dick into whenever he fancies it. He never meant anything to Pete, not really. Just a hole.

Why would Pete ever care for him like that?

He swears loudly, wiping his eyes, and he opens his phone back up, finding the number of the only person he can think of to call right now. He knows it’s not fair to dump all his problems on his ex, but Brendon did complain about Dallon the other day, so he feels as though he owes him one. That and he knows Brendon will listen.

He answers almost instantly.

“Ryan?” there’s loud music in the background, and Brendon has to shout over it. “Ry - hold on - can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you,” Ryan sniffs, feeling fresh tears caressing his skin. “Where are you?”

“At  _ Jinxxd _ , it’s Mikey’s birthday. What’s up?”

Ryan swallows heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He finds that he doesn’t really want to talk about it anymore, not to Brendon. “Nothing, I -” he hiccups. “I’ve just had a really bad day, and I just needed to talk to someone, but if you’re busy -”

“Don’t be stupid, Ryan, it’s fine -”

“Ryan? Ryan Ross?” Mikey says in the background, and he hears  _ gimme gimme gimme  _ before all of a sudden he’s speaking into Ryan’s ear, loud and clear and very, very drunk. “Ryan! It’s my birthday!” He doesn’t wait for Ryan to wish him a happy birthday before continuing. “Where are you? What are you doing? Come and par _ tyyyyyyy _ , I miss you!”

Ryan chuckles, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, Mikes -”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, so you’d better get dressed and come down here right now I’ll come to wherever you are and drag you down here myself.”

“ _ Mikey _ ,” Brendon says, but Mikey can be surprisingly demanding.

“Nuh-uh-uh, you get no say - it’s my birthday and I want Ryan with us. Capiche?”

Ryan sighs. Looks like he’s going out drinking. “Okay fine. I’ll be there in half an hour.”


	11. Chapter 10

Brendon’s on tenterhooks for the entire half-hour, and then some. He drinks and drinks and drinks, trying to settle the nerves that make a ruckus in his stomach, but the alcohol only makes it worse.

When Ryan finally arrives, Brendon feels like he’s going to vomit.  _ Why does he have to still be so painfully gorgeous? This would be so much easier if I found him ugly now. _

He’s wearing that fucking dusty rose jacket, the one Brendon saw him in last time, the one Brendon bought him for his birthday four years ago, over a faded band t-shirt that Brendon hadn’t remembered losing. He’s wearing ripped jeans and his hair is slicked back, and Brendon’s drunk ass can’t help but stare. It’s their first meeting all over again, only this time it’s much different.

“Hey,” Ryan says.

“Hey,” says Brendon, getting to his feet and grabbing Ryan’s sleeve. “Drink?”

Without waiting for an answer, he drags Ryan to the bar, his heart pounding. He orders for the both of them, and while they wait, he looks up at Ryan, who smiles, clearly distracted. The music’s louder here, so he has to lean in close to talk to him, and the smell of Ryan’s cologne punches him in the face with a thousand memories.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or not?” he almost yells, and when he leans back, Ryan shrugs before leaning in.

“My fiancé broke up with me,” he says, and Brendon isn’t sure how to feel about this.

Ryan’s clearly upset about it, and that bothers him; but why? He doesn’t care about Ryan or his fiancé or what they get up to. Except he does kind of care about Ryan, and whatever he deserves, it’s not that.

“Shit,” says Brendon, accepting the drinks from the bartender. “I’m sorry.”

Ryan shrugs again, taking the drink from Brendon and drinking it in one go. “Don’t be,” he tells him, taking Brendon’s drink and downing that one too. “I just wanna forget about it for now. Wouldn’t be fair on Mikey.”

Brendon orders more drinks and they head back to the group, who are now joined by Spencer, someone Brendon hasn’t seen for a long time. While Ryan is pounced on by Mikey and greeted by Gerard and Frank, Brendon heads over to Spencer.

“Where’s the bride-to-be?” Spencer asks, folding his arms across his chest. “And why’s your ex here?”

Brendon rolls his eyes. Out of all of his best friends, Spencer was always the least distrustful of people. To Spencer, everyone always had an ulterior motive, and always wanted something from you. It had taken him a long time to get used to the idea of having Ryan around, so when Ryan left, it had fucked with his perception of how things were.

“ _ Dallon _ is at home, having a bitch fit because I texted Ryan one time after he pissed me off, and  _ Ryan _ is here because he rang me after his fiancé dumped him and Mikey demanded that he come down here and party with us. Hey,” he adds, as Ryan sits down beside him, a drink in his hand and a Mikey on his other side.

“Hey.” Ryan says, and then he says something to Spencer, but Brendon isn’t listening; he’s hyper-aware of Ryan’s thigh pressed against his own, and their elbows would be touching if it weren’t for Ryan’s arms on the table, his hands wrapped around his glass. “Right, Brendon?”

Brendon blinks, snapping out of whatever daydream he’s in. “Hm?” he says, and when Ryan grins, his drunken mind plays it over and over again, torturing him. 

Spencer rolls his eyes on Brendon’s other side. “Ryan was talking about the time he -”

“Drinks!” Gerard interrupts, bringing over a tray laden with jugs, pint glasses and shot glasses filled with an amber liquid. Brendon shrugs and pours a purple drink into a glass, his eyes meeting Ryan’s.

Ryan’s mouth twitches as he holds his own glass, and together they drink, their eyes locked. Brendon’s first to stop drinking, gasping for breath as Ryan finishes his drink in one go.  _ Unbelievable _ .

They all sit and talk and drink for another couple of hours, until Ryan pulls his cigarettes from his jacket pocket and jerks his head towards the balcony upon seeing Brendon’s quizzical gaze. Brendon nods and follows Ryan outside, where the cool night breeze slaps him in the face and makes him shiver, pulling his jacket tighter around himself.

There are more people than he thought on the balcony, but they still manage to find their own corner, and they stand close together as Ryan lights a cigarette. Brendon pops his own cigarette between his teeth and he leans forward so that Ryan can light it for him, his hands cupped around the flame. 

“So,” Brendon says, taking a drag of the cigarette and looking at Ryan. “your fiancé.”

Ryan breathes a laugh, running his free hand through his hair before shoving it in his pocket. “Yeah. That.” He looks over at Brendon, who waits patiently for him to continue, and he sighs. “It’s kind of funny, really. Well, it’s not, not really, but it is a bit.” he puffs on the cigarette, watching the smoke plume towards the stars. “Pete was never my fiancé. He was never even my boyfriend.”

Brendon stares open-mouthed at his ex, unable to form words. “Wha-?” he shakes his head and tries again. “I don’t get it.”

“I, uh,” Ryan bites his lip, casting his eyes downwards. His face is flushed and he’s getting giggly, a telltale sign that he’s  _ drunk _ . “I only told you that Pete’s my boyfriend to prove to you that I am worthy of love, and I wanted you to see that I can make someone happy.” He looks up at Brendon and shrugs, his next words quiet. “I also kinda hoped that it would make you jealous.”

Brendon frowns, trying to make sense of what Ryan’s just said. He takes a few drags of his cigarette and tries to organise his thoughts, while Ryan stands there, shuffling from foot to foot. “So the proposal…?”

“That was fake too, but I had no idea he was going to do that.” he giggles, covering his hand with his mouth. “What did Dallon say about it?”

Brendon rolls his eyes, really not wanting to think about Dallon right now, especially considering Ryan’s confession. “Not a whole lot, actually. He said something like  _ how anyone could want to marry him, I’ll never know _ , but after that he kinda just left it.” he shrugs, putting his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray and sighing. “You’re an idiot, Ryan. You don’t have to fake a relationship to get to me.”

He’s not sure why he says it, but he knows it affects Ryan by the way the older man goes quiet, staring at him with those big brown eyes of his. He’s drunk, he’s saying things he doesn’t really mean - except he does kind of mean it. Ryan gets to him in a way that nobody else ever has, and nobody else - not even his fiancé - ever will.

“What do you mean by that?” Ryan asks, blinking. Brendon can almost see the cogs in his brain turning at record speed as he tries to figure it out.

“Whatever you want it to mean.” Brendon replies, biting his lip.

They lock eyes, and it’s like the breath has been stolen from Brendon’s lungs. He suddenly has this insane thought:  _ what if I kiss him?  _ But before he can act on that insane thought, Ryan shakes his head, seeming to snap out of it, and he too puts his cigarette out. But they don’t go in just yet.

“How is Dallon, anyway?” he says, and Brendon wants to punch himself in the face. He did  _ not _ just think about kissing Ryan. Fucking dumbass. “You haven’t texted me for a few days - which is fine, by the way, I don’t mind - I just wanted to know if you were okay - if you two were okay now.”

Brendon shakes his head, rubbing his eyes. Thinking about Dallon is exhausting. “He’s still mad at me. He won’t talk to me, won’t sleep in the same bed as me, he won’t even  _ look _ at me. Anyone would think I’d actually slept with you.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Ryan runs a hand through his hair, his hands shaking. “If I’d known -”

“Ryan, it’s not your fault. I’m the one that texted you first. It’s my fault.” he sighs. “I’m kinda glad that I’m staying at Frank’s tonight, ‘cause Dallon fucking hates it when I’m wasted. Although…” he trails off, glancing over at the doors that lead inside. “I have no idea when Frank will want to leave. Probably never.”

“Why don’t you stay at mine tonight?” the words are out before Ryan can stop them, but he doesn’t take them back. It’s just a friendly offer, an offer for a friend, no ulterior motives or anything, Brendon’s a friend in need, why shouldn’t he help him out? “Only if you want to,” he adds quickly, seeing Brendon’s stunned reaction. “There’s no pressure or anything, I just thought that since I’ll undoubtedly be heading out before Frank does, you might wanna go to bed earlier, I don’t know. I have a couch I don’t mind sleeping on -”

“Yeah, sure.” brendon interrupts him, seeing his face flush with relief. “If you’re sure, of course. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.”

“No, you’re good. I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it, would I?” Ryan’s face turns redder, if that’s even possible, and Brendon feels like a teenager again, asking his mom if he can have a sleepover. “You’re deciding when we leave, though. Mikey invited you, I’m just a tagalong.”

Brendon rolls his eyes and begins to walk back inside, a small smile on his face. When he gets back to the others, there are a couple of guys that he doesn’t recognise, but Mikey and Frank are still there, along with Spencer. Gerard is nowhere to be seen.

“Gee’s getting shots,” Frank says from his spot on Mikey’s lap, answering Brendon’s unspoken question. He narrows his eyes at both him and Ryan, who’s standing behind him all of a sudden. “You two were a long time.”

Brendon shrugs, taking a seat next to a guy with long, scruffy hair and a stubbled jaw. “We were just talking about stuff while we smoked. No big deal, man.”

“What stuff?” Mikey asks, his eyes glazed over. He rubs his nose absentmindedly, his eyes not really focussing on anything in particular.

“Oh, y’know,” Brendon waves a hand, avoiding looking at Ryan, who sits on his other side. “Just Ryan’s fake fiancé -”

Ryan interrupts him, smirking. “And Brendon’s asshat of a fiancé.”

“Right?!” Gerard’s back, and he’s holding a tray crammed with shots. He sits beside the scruffy guy and downs two of the shots in quick succession. “What the fuck is up with that guy?”

Brendon scowls at Ryan, who sticks his tongue out a little. “There is nothing wrong with my fiancé, thank you very much.” defends Brendon, but as he says it he knows it’s a lie. Ignoring everyone’s ‘yeah sure’ looks, he gestures for Ryan to stand up and he squeezes by, heading to the bar. He needs more alcohol.

He doesn’t expect anyone to follow him, so he jumps when he hears Ryan say, “Three on three?”

It’s a thing they used to do when they were out drinking together, and whenever one of them said it, it meant that they had to simultaneously drink three shots of tequila each, back-to-back, as fast as they can. 

Brendon nods and Ryan grins, ordering six shots of tequila from the bartender. They arrive quickly, and Ryan counts down from three. Together, they knock back the shots, one after the other, and once they’re done, Brendon’s head is spinning. It’s a terrible idea, but when Ryan suggests that they do it again, he agrees. 

Ryan always has the best terrible ideas.

~

It’s something like 3am, or maybe it’s 4am, when they stumble through Ryan’s front door. Brendon leans against the wall to take his shoes off, unable to stop his giggling. Ryan closes the door and takes his shoes off too, and then he looks up at Brendon, whose giggles fade as they lock eyes. 

There's been this unspoken thing between them all night, although that could've just been the sheer amount of alcohol they'd been drinking. Either way, every touch they'd accidentally shared had been electric, and Ryan can't stop thinking about it.

He's still reeling from Pete's betrayal, and he's feeling reckless.

The thing about Ryan is that he gets dumb ideas when he’s drunk. One time, when he was eighteen, he decided he’d try and slide over the hood of his dad’s truck, breaking his arm in the process. His excuse was that he wanted to ‘pretend he was in a movie’. Another time, in the same year in fact, he thought it would be fun to jump out of his bedroom window into the snow outside. He was fine when he landed, but he got stuck and his dad had to dig him out in the middle of the night.

But this idea, the one he has in his head right now, is the dumbest idea he’s ever had. And without thinking about it, he does it.

He steps forward, taking Brendon’s face in his hands, and he kisses him hard on the mouth.


	12. Chapter 11

At first, Brendon sinks into the kiss, not really registering what’s happening. But then, after a few moments attached to Ryan, his eyes snap open and he steps back, breaking the kiss. He touches his lips, his heart beating rapidly as his eyes search Ryan’s for an answer to a question he doesn’t want to ask.

“Fuck -” Ryan whispers, biting his lower lip. “- I’m so sorry, I -”

He’s cut off by Brendon pushing him forcefully against the wall, crashing their mouths together. It takes a second for Ryan to realise what’s happening -  _ Brendon’s kissing me Brendon’s kissing me Brendon’s kissing me  _ \- but when he does, his hand goes to the back of Brendon’s head, holding him close, the other one on his shoulder, fisting into his jacket.

Brendon’s hands cup Ryan’s face, his tongue sliding into the older man’s mouth to languidly rub against his own. Ryan moans softly, his mind and body on overdrive, feeling like someone seeing the sun for the first time. He can taste alcohol and tobacco on Brendon’s mouth, and something else that makes him so undoubtedly  _ Brendon _ . 

It doesn’t take long for Brendon to feel Ryan’s cock pressing against his leg through his jeans, and instead of deterring him like it should’ve, it only spurs him on further. He runs his hands up Ryan’s chest, pushing his jacket off of his shoulders. Ryan moves his arms so that it can drop to the floor, followed by his t-shirt.

Brendon goes straight for Ryan’s neck, kissing along his jawline before securing himself to a spot just above his collarbone - his sweet spot. Ryan’s moans increase in pitch, and he swears loudly when Brendon bites down, sucking on the skin there.

“This is the worst idea we’ve ever had,” Ryan chokes out, his knuckles turning white as he grips onto Brendon’s shoulders. “We should stop.”

“I don’t think I want to stop. I don’t think I can stop, even if I did want to,” Brendon admits, pulling back and looking at him with those lustful eyes he’s missed so damn much.

It’s been over two years since Ryan has seen that look, and he didn’t realise how much he’d missed it until now.  _ Fuck _ , he’s so turned on.

He grabs Brendon’s hand and pulls him down the hallway towards his bedroom. Their footsteps aren’t the smoothest, and Ryan stumbles into the door before opening it, but soon they’re in, and they’re back to kissing. It doesn’t take long at all for them to shed the rest of their clothes, falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and sweat. Ryan’s forgotten how good Brendon feels against him.

“All fours,” Brendon whispers, and Ryan obliges, his heart beating fast in his chest.

He cries out when he feels Brendon’s tongue at his asshole, and he quickly covers his mouth with his hand as he closes his eyes. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t  _ this _ . One of Ryan’s - and therefore Brendon’s - favourite things in the world is being eaten out, and since he and Brendon split up, he hasn’t had his ass eaten once. Not even by Pete.

So to have Brendon giving his asshole all the attention it deserves now, after more than two years, feels  _ divine _ .

He moans loudly as Brendon spreads his asscheeks, gripping them tight with both hands, his face pressed against his hole. It feels as though he’s covered from head to toe in static electricity, his whole body shaking with pleasure. Brendon groans against Ryan, rubbing his thumb against Ryan’s sensitive hole before moving away completely. 

“If you’re looking for lube,” Ryan gasps, feeling his hair stick to his forehead. “It’s in the top drawer.”

He hears Brendon climb off the bed and he hears the drawer open and close. He tries to look around at Brendon as he kneels behind him once again, but he can’t quite see over his shoulder. His arms are shaking, his upper body held up by his forearms, and his legs are shaking too, but for a different reason.

Brendon pops the cap on the lube and squirts a generous amount onto his fingers, adding some to Ryan’s asshole for good measure. He feels Ryan’s whole body tense up as he slides a finger, in up to the third knuckle, and he bites his lip, his cock twitching as Ryan hangs his head between his shoulders. The sounds that come out of Ryan’s mouth as Brendon fingers him are obscene, and they only intensify when he adds another finger, and then a third, rendering Ryan a mess on the sheets.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Brendon whispers, curling his fingers inside of his ex-boyfriend. “I forgot how fucking good you look like this.”

He pulls his fingers out and goes back in with his mouth. He can taste cherries as his tongue slips in easily, and the hand that’s not gripping hold of Ryan’s asscheek reaches around and wraps around Ryan’s cock, stroking slowly.

“B,  _ please _ ,” Ryan’s hips rock back against Brendon’s face, whimpers spilling from his lips like an overflowing glass, his mouth unable to contain them. “ _ Please _ ,” he begs, “please fuck me.”

_ Ryan Ross is many things _ , Brendon thinks to himself as he pulls back, lubing up his aching cock and getting ready to have sex with his ex-boyfriend.  _ And a needy bottom is definitely one of them. _

Ryan tries desperately to catch his breath as Brendon slides inside him, holding on tightly to Ryan’s hips while he grips the sheets so hard he doesn’t think his hands will be the same shape again. Once Brendon bottoms out, all thoughts of a slow pace go out the window as he snaps his hips, making Ryan moan loud enough to wake his neighbors if he’s not careful.

A string of curses fall from Ryan’s mouth as he’s being fucked, the words closely followed by spit, which pools on the sheets below him. He’s not sure he’s going to last as long as he wants to, especially not with the way Brendon moans above him.

And then, just when Ryan thinks he’s about to come, Brendon pulls out, sitting down on the bed and telling Ryan to sit on his lap facing him, his words jumbling together but somehow still understandable. Ryan does as he’s told, wrapping his arms around Brendon’s shoulders as he lowers himself down onto his cock, biting his lip hard as it fills him up. 

Brendon’s eyes are watering at how good Ryan feels around him, how hot and tight he is, and when Ryan begins to move his hips, fucking himself on Brendon’s cock, he feels like he’s about to pass out. He can’t believe he forgot how good it feels to be with Ryan, even after all this time.

“Oh,  _ fuck _ ,” Ryan cries out, beginning to chase his release as it slowly creeps up on him. He wraps his hands around his cock, jerking himself in time with his thrusts, his forehead pressed firmly against Brendon’s. “Make me come, Brendon -  _ please  _ \- I need - I need to -”

Brendon grips Ryan’s ass tightly as he fucks into him, and Ryan’s moans increase in pitch as he gets closer to his climax.  _ Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck  _ \- Ryan screws his eyes shut as his orgasm hits him, his voice hoarse. He comes all over his hand and he gasps for breath, looking up at Brendon, who kisses him fiercely.

“Ride my cock, baby,” Brendon purrs, burying his face in the slick skin of Ryan’s neck, holding on tightly to his hips as he rocks them. “That’s it, there’s a good boy...make me come, baby...make me come.”

Ryan mewls at the overstimulation, but he wants to make Brendon feel good, so he wraps his arms around the younger’s shoulders and rides his cock like the good boy he is. It doesn’t take long for Brendon to come too, his low moan filling Ryan’s ear as he fills him up.

Ryan lifts himself off of Brendon, breathing hard, and he flops onto the bed beside him, pulling him close. Brendon nuzzles his face into the back of Ryan’s neck, taking in the scent of leather and sweat and something else, something sexy. Pheromones, probably. He murmurs something that Ryan, who’s drifting off to sleep, a hangover already whispering at him, doesn’t quite catch.

“Mm?” says Ryan, feeling the younger man’s fingers running through his hair.

“I said, can I use your shower in the morning?” Brendon replies, kissing just behind his ear.

“Mm. Course you can.” 

And then Ryan’s asleep, wrapped in the arms of his ex-boyfriend, a fact that he won’t fully realise until he’s sober.

~ 

When Ryan wakes a few hours later, he’s cuddled close into Pete, whose arms are wrapped protectively around him. He smiles to himself, loving the feeling of waking up next to someone, the feeling overriding the hangover that’s screaming at him. He’s just falling back to sleep when his eyes snap open with the sudden realisation that -

_ Pete’s in Minnesota _ .

Then who -?

Ryan looks up, holding his breath, and last night’s alcohol threatens to resurface when he sees who’s in bed with him.

“ _ Brendon _ ,” he hisses, shaking his ex -  _ oh god, I slept with my ex  _ \- to try and get him to wake. “Brendon!”

Brendon grumbles, stirring. “Dall, it’s too -” his eyes open and he pales when he sees Ryan. He scrambles away from him, putting as much distance between them as possible, and he sits up, burying his face in his hands. “You’re not Dallon.”

“No, I’m not.” Ryan rolls his eyes as he sits up too, folding his arms.

“What happened, Ryan?” Brendon looks up at him, his eyes wide and wet. “What the fuck did we do?”

“Well, judging by our state of undress, I’d say it’s pretty obvious what we did.”

“ _ Fuck _ .”

Ryan nods slowly, licking his lips. “Yeah, that sums it up.”

Brendon feels his lips twitch at Ryan’s comment, and he takes a deep breath. He lets it out slowly, and then he repeats the action before speaking. “It’s fine. These things happen. We were drunk, it was an accident. It won’t happen again.” They lock eyes, and Brendon bites down on his lower lip. “Right?”

“Exactly.” Ryan gets to his feet, his body thrumming at the way Brendon looks him up and down. “Feel free to use the shower if you want, I doubt you’ll want to go home smelling like me”

Brendon laughs a little, running his hand through his messy hair. “Yeah, you’re right. I will take a quick shower, if that’s cool.”

“Of course. Coffee?”

Brendon nods and Ryan leaves him to it, walking naked to the kitchen. He gets the coffee machine going and while he waits, he watches the rain drum against his window, trying to piece together the previous night’s events. 

He’s sore, and he’s sure there’s dried come between his legs somewhere, but as to whether it’s his or Brendon’s, he has no idea. Maybe it’s both.

He remembers offering Brendon a place to stay for the night, due to the fact that he was planning on staying at Frank’s, and Frank usually doesn’t stop drinking until about 6am. He checks the clock above the stove - 8am. Yeah, Frank would be just falling into bed right about now.

He hears the shower start, and a few seconds later the coffee’s ready. He pours both himself and Brendon a mug, making it just the way he remembers Brendon liking it - a splash of milk, two and a half sugars. 

He remembers coming back to the apartment with Brendon, and kissing him, but everything after that is fuzzy. He can’t help but smile, though, as he takes a sip of his coffee.  _ Take that, dickbag Dallon _ . 

When the shower stops running, he takes the mugs into the bedroom, sitting cross-legged on the bed. Brendon comes in a few moments later in nothing but a towel, his wet hair slicked back and water rolling in droplets down his smooth chest. Ryan licks his lips and eyes him from over the rim of his coffee cup, his dick suddenly wide awake between his legs.

“If you were a single man,” Ryan teases, biting his lip. “I’d let you rail me again.”

Brendon rolls his eyes and turns away, dropping the towel so that he can dress, but Ryan doesn’t miss the smile that flashes across the younger’s face. “Yeah, well. I might be a single man, soon.” he says, and it’s Ryan’s turn to roll his eyes.

“You’re seriously not thinking of telling him, are you?” he asks, his eyes moving over the muscles moving in Brendon’s back as he pulls his t-shirt back on.

“I have to, Ry.” Brendon turns back to face him, beginning to towel-dry his hair. “He’s my fiancé.”

“Okay, but -” Ryan sets his coffee cup on the nightstand and points at Brendon. “Have you considered this:  _ he doesn’t need to know _ .”

Brendon lets his arms fall, defeated. “I can’t - I can’t just  _ not _ tell him.”

Ryan holds out his hand for Brendon to take, and he does so, stepping forward and tangling his fingers with Ryan’s. “You don’t have to tell him everything, B. This was just a one-off, an accident. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Okay?” he gives Brendon’s hand a squeeze and the younger man nods, biting his lower lip.

“Okay. You’re right.” he swallows heavily, accepting the mug of coffee that Ryan offers him and taking a big gulp. “I’d still better go, though. I need to grab my stuff from Frank’s and at least make it look like I stayed there last night.”

Ryan nods, drinking his own coffee. “I guess the good thing about Frank is that he’s not likely to notice that you weren’t there last night, probably because he’s lying in between the Way brothers.”

Brendon grimaces. “That’s not an image I want in my head when I’m hungover.” he moves away, slipping the last few items of clothing on. “Thanks, Ryan.” He checks he’s got everything before turning back to Ryan, who grins. “I guess I’ll see you around?”

Ryan nods. “Yeah. Call me if you want. Or message me. Or not, it’s up to you.” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but part of him does want Brendon to call him, though he can’t quite fathom why.

“I’ll text you, at the very least.” Brendon smiles, and he waves hesitantly. “Later.”

Ryan waves back. “Bye, Brendon.”

And then Brendon leaves, and for some reason, Ryan feels... empty. The feeling doesn't last long, though, because within ten minutes, Ryan's asleep.


End file.
